Buried Flowers
by Emperor Kumquat
Summary: A madness sweeps across Europe when a select few nations are turned into puppets of a terrorist organization and are forced to target their loved ones. *Will eventually be majorly edited*
1. Chapter 1

**Warning: this is rated M for a reason! Be prepared for violence/gore, major character death, and later sexual assault. This story is not for the fainthearted. If this fic is too much to handle, check out my profile page for softer stories. Maybe a Russia and a kitten story better suites your taste. Otherwise, strap yourself in and put on your rain poncho. Blood's gonna fly, and you're in the splash zone.**

* * *

It took only a moment for things to change. A breath, sharp eyes focused on the target and yet giving no chance for eye contact, then the strike. Italy's head snapped sideways from the blow and then his whole body followed until he and the chair came crashing to the floor. The chorus of gasps initiated, one after the other, as though a melody had been pre-planned for this moment. The other bodies around the room shot from their chairs, racing to aid yet were too far away to prevent the assault that ensued.

Italy was snatched from the ground and hurled at the closest brick-solidified wall. He smacked against it with a sound resembling that of a wet towel. His eyes flashed upwards and he was temporarily blinded by the white light until a shadow appeared to block out everything. His already tumid cheek was punched once again, then a matching injury was donned to the other side of his face to subdue him. He collapsed soundlessly into a limp mass, leaning with his limbs bent and hanging so that he resembled poorly assembled furniture.

He served as a purely defenseless target, thus a huge fist dove into Italy's chest without hesitation. Upon impact, ribs crumpled and splintered like beaten wood. The other fist then arrived, burying itself into his diaphragm and stealing away his breath. The third punch was prepared, yet was halted by the clinging strength of America as he wrapped his arms like double hooks around the thicker one. America threw his weight backwards but kept his head forward so that he could purposely holler into the assailant's ear, "What the hell are you doing?"

Italy was forgotten. Germany reared around and slapped his free hand around America's throat. America's eyes had already been wide, yet now the glimmer of fear was now glistening there. For a moment, the nearness to death was recognized. America scrambled backwards and threw out a blow to escape Germany's grasp. He saw as he departed however, Germany's reaching hand in front of his face and how the grip was shaped to seize his trachea.

Britain latched onto Germany's side and before he could be assaulted, Spain grabbed onto Germany's other arm with teeth exposed in a grimace. The consequent struggle was unexpectedly ferocious. Germany careened sideways so that Britain was smashed against the wall, then he launched to the side to crush Spain against the floor with his weight. While on his side, Germany had regained sight of Italy. A predatory gleam shone coolly in his eyes like alpenglow as he clawed the carpet to pull himself towards the quietly moaning lump.

Just as fingers scraped the sock-clad ankle, Germany coughed as he was crushed on this occasion. Germany drew his arms back to push himself up, managing to get his upper body off the ground until Russia pushed on his elbows. Germany slapped against the floor and his arms became pinned like the rest of his body under Russia's weight. Germany instantly snarled and resisted, but soon enough America, Britain, Spain, and many others had come to hold some part of Germany down.

Many others went immediately to Italy. He was still emitting soft sounds of pain, but he hardly seemed to understand any of what was going on around him. His eyelids twitched and his breathing was slow and swallow. When spoken to gently by voices barely withholding fearful tremors, Italy did not respond. Hungary checked him over, monitoring his breathing, pulse, and responsiveness. When she held his wrist, she felt a quivering that was his remaining terror.

Hungary began to sweat like the others around her as she heard the yelling. It was America again, and he was crying out, "Why did you do this? What the hell, man?"

Germany did not say anything. This only caused Britain to exclaim, "He's your friend, isn't he? What happened? Why did you attack him?"

The lack of response caused jittery stress to overwhelm many. They wanted to know why the peace had been broken. Why the meeting had taken this turn before it had even started. Why Germany had been twenty minutes late. Why he had attacked someone close to him.

Above all, why he was saying nothing.

"Germany!" Austria's face expressed shock but his hands were squeezed into fists. "What is wrong with you? Why did you do this?"

Germany thrashed. Those holding him were startled but were soon able to get him under control again. Germany still did not speak, and this only intensified the emotions of the others.

"Germany!" America exploded. "Hey! Dude!"

Hungary placed her cellphone to the side of her head. The screen felt cool against her face, which had since started to heat up. Her hand felt overly light and heavy at the same time, causing her to feel as though a fever was overtaking her. Confusion, concern, and fear took turns shocking her until she shook in their grips. It was soon however that she could distract herself from the uncomfortable feelings in her body, when dispatch picked up and she could speak to her.

"We need an ambulance," Hungary whispered. "There's something wrong with his lungs…"

America screamed, " _Why_?"

Hungary continued on past the shouts, "He was attacked… H-His ribs are broken…"

One of Germany's arms freed itself from the gripping hands. Britain was struck by a punch in the temple and he collapsed to his side, temporarily stunned. Instantly Germany's hand snapped onto his throat and Britain coughed once before becoming silent. He writhed on the floor and lifted his chin up as he attempted to pry off Germany's fingers.

"Stop!" France screeched. "Germany, what has gotten into you? Let him go!"

Britain was soon liberated from the robotic grip. He fell backwards into his saviors, and together they stared aghast at Germany's face. It was turned towards them and the blue eyes were glaring into Britain's with an unfamiliar sharpness. Britain twitched and glanced to France and then to Lithuania at his sides. These two met Britain's gaze with equal startlement and wonderment before looking back to Germany with him.

"He tried to kill you," Lithuania murmured, "and America, and…"

Hungary spoke to the responder in a strained voice, murmuring as though she did not want to be heard by anyone else, "Please... we need the police."

Britain observed Germany's face closely. The eyes held in the middle of a disturbingly placid face unnerved him. There was a dry incisiveness that pierced through him, seeming to be spiking from a pool of scorching rage that was nestled secretly behind Germany's pupils. Britain's heart wobbled as he realized that there was no intelligence in that opposing gaze. He recognized the hunter, which was switching between times of uncontrollable bloodlust, and calculating focus. The time of focus was now, and this focus was uncomprehendingly extreme. Britain wondered then, if there was a goal that he was consumed by.

France flinched as he noticed all this as well. He was reminded of the staring gaze of a zombie suddenly: a creature that was utterly intent on reaching its quarry, dispatching it, then finding another victim to pursue. Germany did not mourn woefully, yet the muscles in his face were relaxed right now in psychopathic calmness. Germany seemed to feel no guilt for his actions. He desired more violence. Germany still said nothing, and yet the telepathic message was practically sent to all who looked at him: _If I could move, I would kill you._

France said it first.

"That," he uttered, "is _not_ Germany."

The body held down however, seemed to be undoubtedly his.

"I do not understand." Russia tilted his head, considering the man before him. "What would be causing him to do this?"

"Do you think he's been drugged?" China asked.

America blinked."Like, crack or something?"

"His pupils aren't overly dilated or constricted," Britain said, "but there's definitely something strange about his eyes."

America continued regardless, "I've heard of bath salts making people do weird stuff before…"

No one knew what to say for a while after that. They kept Germany to the floor, occasionally diving into internal debate to try and rationalize Germany's actions, at least until he struggled and they were thrown back into a fuzzy, strange reality. They hoped that he would go limp, blink rapidly, then groan a stereotypical "where am I?" so that the stranger below them would disappear.

The police and ambulance arrived without this ever happening.

Those on Germany peeled away to let the police officers replace their positions, then they watched with hollow eyes as handcuffs were neatly slapped onto Germany. Germany growled gutturally and pulled against the hands on him while staring directly at the nations standing before him. Japan took a nervous step forward, attracting the attention of the twisting beast. He said, "Germany, please stop-" but cut himself off after the particularly loud snarl and jerk directed towards him. The police officers dragged Germany away as Japan shrunk into himself and dipped his head to stare at the ground blankly.

Italy was carried out on a stretcher. The group was asked questions by the remaining officer, and then it was over. One-by-one they stumbled out from the building to gather together in the front, devoid of purpose. The meeting would not be continued, and yet they forgot that they had the choice to go home.

All emergency vehicles left, and then it was just silence for a while. They all looked everywhere except for at each other, finding fake interest in passing birds and insects, rustling foliage, and parked cars. The silence unset them more and more until some blushed as though embarrassed. They all wanted someone to say something, for the act of standing here in this world that felt unconfirmed was far too uncomfortable.

China eventually sighed, "I still don't understand."

Then it became exponentially easier to speak.

"Germany attacked Italy," France murmured. "Why, though? Did Italy do something that we are unaware of that upset him?"

"Italy?" Britain raised his brows. "Doing something so bad that Germany would want to kill him? That doesn't sound likely."

"Is that really what he was trying to do?" Ukraine gasped.

"He choked you," Lithuania said to Britain, "and you did nothing to upset him, right? America too?"

The two whom had been specified nodded.

"He did not stop once to think," Lithuania uttered. "He just _attacked_. Germany is not like this."

"I have never seen him angry like that before," Japan commented. "He was like an animal. He was not thinking at all."

"But no one knows why he was like this?" America asked.

Nothing was revealed. Only denials were given.

"What about Prussia?" Austria threw out. "He lives with him. He might know!"

America thus decided to call Germany's place with the intention of asking this question, but then ended up remembering as the phone rang that Prussia was ignorant in regards to the situation that had just transpired.

"Hey, um…" America rubbed the back of his head as he spoke.

"America?" Prussia immediately recognized the voice.

"Yeah…"

The hesitation confused Prussia. "Why are you calling? Isn't there a meeting? Germany isn't here… Wait. Is Germany not there? Is he okay? Did something happen?"

"Well, first of all, Germany was late," America said, "by twenty minutes."

Prussia exclaimed, "But he left like an hour ago!"

"He did?"

"You said first of all." Prussia murmured now because his throat was becoming tight from worry. "What else happened?"

America asked, "Was he acting strange before he left?"

"No, not at all…"

"Are you sure?"

"Tell me what happened!"

America replied, "Germany attacked Italy without reason. Italy is in the hospital and Germany has been arrested."

" _What_?"

"He was just entirely nuts. He wouldn't talk to anyone and he attacked anyone close to him."

" _Germany_?"

"Yeah, dude… So we were wondering if you knew anything. Like if he and Italy got into a fight or something before."

"No." Prussia shook his head, unbeknownst to those he was speaking to. "Germany and Italy don't fight. Germany would not hurt him. Germany would not just do… any of this!"

"Well, he did. We don't know why, but I am sure that the police are going to contact you anyway and you can go see him yourself. Maybe you can find out why he acted this way."

Prussia was stroking his own hair on his end of the phone. He stared forward at the wall while trying to imagine Germany doing all that America had just described. It was beyond his ability. He could not picture it.

"And… Italy? How bad off is he?" Prussia inquired.

"I think his ribs are all messed up. Germany got a few hits in before we pulled him off him."

Prussia's scalp hurt as he tugged on his hair.

" _Why_?" Prussia breathed. "This doesn't make sense. Are you sure this was Germany? He… He wouldn't just do this."

"Germany hasn't been taking any drugs, has he?" America continued.

"No… Germany… No, he hasn't."

"Huh. Well, okay then… I don't really think I can ask anything else."

Prussia made a weary affirmative sound in his throat as a reply.

"Bye, then," America said.

"Bye," Prussia whispered with a dry mouth.

"Oh, and tell us anything Germany says."

"I… will do that."

America hung up first. After doing this, he looked at the others, turning around to scan over them all.

"He knows nothing," America murmured.

"Something's up, surely," Britain muttered, "if this change of character occurred in such a short time frame. I believe that he was drugged and that his actions were not his fault. If this is the case, then he should be able to recuperate then explain what happened."

"Prussia will find out," America nodded. "We'll just have to wait a bit, I guess."

Russia asked, "Then we will be going home now?"

"Nothing else we can really do." America shrugged. "So-"

"Hold on," Hungary jumped in. "What about Italy's brother? We need to tell him what happened too!"

Belgium nodded. "Romano might know something Prussia doesn't."

"Oh no," Spain sighed. "When Romano hears what _Germany_ did to Italy, he's going to be furious! He'll want to get his hands on the guy himself."

It was decided that Spain would take this call. His prediction was correct, but the resulting rage from the news was all that was received. It turned out that Romano had no information regarding Germany's savage attitude as well. Britain's hypothesis was once again believed to be probable.

"So now…?" Estonia asked.

"We can either go home or wait to visit Italy," France replied. "They said he was being taken to the DRK Kliniken Berlin Westend."

Many wanted to wait it seemed, in order to provide comfort to Italy and hear about the extent of his injuries. There was a belief at the moment running through their heads that a broken rib had punctured his lungs. They felt that they should at least show sympathy and remain for Italy's sake.

It was settled. They slowly split off from each other to reach their cars parked along the street or in parking lots, or they hailed down taxis. They headed home with strangely-weighted hearts, or they found hotels. Those that got themselves a room would later relocate themselves at diners and in some cases at convenience stores, then they would return to their hotel rooms to wait until the next day. It was so that when morning came around they would one-by-one pop in at the hospital to ask about Italy. The staff informed them of his condition, and this news was passed on to those who had left the country. Soon everyone became aware that three of Italy's ribs had been broken, and that one of his lungs had been perforated, all due to the actions of Germany.

Prussia had dropped in quickly to give Italy his words of consolation along with flowers. He would have stayed longer, but it was during the visit that he was called down to the police station. A quick, sorrowful goodbye was slipped from Prussia before he left the room and trotted down the hall. He hurried to his car then through the city, squeezing the wheel unconsciously tight in his grasp for the entirety of the drive.

Germany had been freed from the bars, and was sitting and waiting for Prussia to arrive while a police officer watched over him. When Prussia saw him, he did not know what to say first. He wanted to ask many things, but he also wanted to scream. He was confused, and admittedly scared because of this. He padded closer to Germany, but froze and looked away just as the blue eyes flashed up to him.

"Ger-Germany…" Prussia murmured. "What… _Why_ did you-"

"I don't remember."

"You- _what_?"

"I don't know what happened to me," Germany continued very softly. "I remember leaving home, but then many hours are gone to me."

A relief washed over Prussia. He was still not willing to fully look at Germany, so he stared at the side and said, "So then, someone did something to you? You were drugged?"

"They say that's what happened to me," Germany sighed. "They did some quick tests. Someone did something to me."

The talking eased Prussia continuously more. Prussia sighed as well, and no longer felt the need to yell at Germany. His anger was redirected onto whoever had possibly drugged his brother.

"It's not your fault." Prussia nodded. "That's good."

"I'm so sorry," Germany exhaled. "But I… I don't know what I will say to Italy..."

"Don't worry about it," Prussia assured him. "Italy will get it. You wouldn't hurt him on your own accord. Those drugs really messed you up is all."

Germany nodded.

"Come on," Prussia said. "We can go now and see if we can visit Italy!"

The other nodded again. Prussia led the way and took him out from the station. They walked side-by-side together with the sun climbing higher up the sky behind their backs. When they came up to the car, Germany blinked rapidly as though what he saw was unfamiliar. He tilted his head and peered harder at it until Prussia passed in front of him on his way to the driver's side. Germany then flicked his gaze onto him instead.

"Prussia," he said.

Prussia paused and turned around to face him.

Germany looked over him, then continued, "You look tired."

"Oh." Prussia shrugged. "I am. I didn't really sleep well last night. I kept dreaming that the phone was ringing."

"Let me drive then." Germany walked up to him. "You should rest."

"Good idea, West," Prussia chirped while handing the keys over to him. "You take us home while I snooze."

"Which hospital are we going to?"

"He's at the DRK Kliniken… Westend."

Germany patted him once on the shoulder before opening the door and slipping into the car behind the wheel. Prussia slugged around the car, feeling more fatigued now that his lack of sleep had been mentioned. He plopped down into his seat and fumbled to fasten his seat belt. After the click he nestled himself into a comfortable position, but then felt a sudden compulsion to crack open his eyes. He looked over and found Germany observing him. The keys were jammed into the ignition, yet Germany sat there without doing anything else. Prussia's eyes flashed over the seat belt strapped over Germany's upper body, then back to his face.

Prussia was confused for a moment. Germany's eyes seemed sharper than usual, and Prussia was not sure if it was the fault of his tired mind. Germany's face was calm, so no worry arose, but his eyes were definitely off somehow to Prussia.

He felt that it would be a strange thing to ask about, so Prussia just yawned, "What is it?"

"Nothing, sorry. I was… just thinking."

"Oh? About what?"

"Nothing worth discussing. Go to sleep."

Germany started the car finally. Prussia allowed his eyes to fall closed as the vehicle turned out onto the street and picked up speed. The air conditioner blowing on him numbed his mind and body, and soon he was dragged into slumber. At a sudden stop, he twitched and blinked open his eyes. Through a vision that made everything seem like it was made of cotton, Prussia saw the red light hanging before the car. Prussia thought, _Why were you driving so fast…?_ and he meant to ask this, but he fell asleep again before he could.

He missed how at the stoplights, Germany had turned his head to stare at him. Sharp blue bored into his ignorant body; a dry and focused stare. Germany looked on ahead after the light had turned green, yet he continued to throw more glances over at Prussia constantly. Something cold grew within Germany's core that heated his body at the same time. His right eyelid twitched before his eyebrows dipped. Wrinkles spread across his face as it contorted itself into an expression of rage.

Germany flashed Prussia one last look of remorseless ferocity before his eyes feverishly scanned the street ahead. His eyes then settled upon a single object standing strong up in the yard of an apartment: an old oak.

Prussia gasped and let out a scream when the car swerved sharply with protesting screeches from the wheels. The car bumped over the curb and skidded across sidewalk then grass. Prussia saw briefly the object fast approaching through his window before his scream was cut off when the passenger side collided into the tree and the car crumpled inwards with a deafening, metallic crunch.

Locals scrambled forward with cries after seeing the crash. They raced over and arrived on scene as a man pulled himself out from the driver's side. They did little panic dances around him and the car before finding something on the right side that made them scream. Germany shoved them out of the way as he trudged around to the other side of the smoking vehicle to see what they had seen.

Glass littered the ground and the smashed interior of the car. Germany crushed them mindlessly underfoot as he came as close as he could to the wreckage. Here he found Prussia heavily lacerated and jammed in a twisted position against his seat by the door that was folded inwards. His head was flopped over the sill of the window that framed him, and the remaining jagged glass that stuck upwards had stabbed into his throat. Germany paced around the tree in order to see his face, and he discovered that part of Prussia's head was smashed into the tree and a spiderweb of red crisscrossed his face. His mouth hung open a crack and blood bubbled out from him past broken teeth and the ones that had fallen out to lie over his tongue.

Germany walked stiffly past the terrified bystanders as though he was attached to a line. A young man jumped out in front of him, exclaiming, "You can't leave! Hold on, the a-ambulance will come-"

Germany barged past him without ever setting his eyes down upon him. The man scrambled after him, yelling, "Hold on! You'll have to talk to the police, and get checked over- and… your friend…"

Even when grabbed, Germany ignored him to keep striding forward.

"Don't you care?" the stranger asked.

The eyes alight with the shine of a polished blade still saw into a place he had not yet reached.

"Did you injure your head? You were in a car crash, sir…"

The man did not have the strength to hold Germany back. Some others hurried after Germany after noticing that one of the supposed victims was departing and after hearing what was being said. They hopped out in front of Germany while showing him their palms and calling out well-intended things. Now Germany minded them, seeing a sidewalk full of obstacles. He stalked forward and found himself grabbed on all sides by concerned people.

At this time a crowd had gathered around the scene and some cars were slowing so that curious eyes could be satisfied. Employees and customers in nearby shops popped out as well to line the sidewalk on the other side of the street and just up ahead in the direction Germany wanted to head. Germany saw many of them in his peripheral vision and yet this did not stop him from snatching a woman and hurling her at the concrete. After the crack, those around him screamed. Germany grabbed more from the screaming group and threw them away until the path before him was cleared.

He heard the sirens approaching. Someone from the crowd had called for help, yet others were currently videotaping from across the street. Germany bolted away down the sidewalk and struck down anyone who got in his way. He had put a comfortable distance between himself and the crash site before he was passed by the ambulances on his way to the hospital they had departed from.

Then Germany found himself captivated along the way. A shop dedicated to cuisine displayed a shining kit of kitchen knives behind its display window. He turned sharply and a jovial chime announced his entrance. Once inside he found a singular item and grasped it. He whipped around and bolted out with the expensive, stainless steel meat cleaver still in its case. The employee at the counter saw this and hollered before hobbling after the thief. Germany was unaware that he was being pursued yet he had continued on with his run and easily left the chubby employee behind.

As he jogged, he tore at the case for the cleaver. Once it was bared, he did not hide it. He tore through the streets with it chopping the air with every swing of his pumping arm. Multiple calls to the police station were made due to this, yet Germany made it to his destination without being apprehended. He burst into the hospital and charged to the front counter. The worker screamed as Germany managed to growl out a comprehensible, "Where is Italy?"

The woman at the front desk rushed to provide him with an answer. As Germany stood before her, another employee leapt into the room after hearing the screams of all in the front. She took action and dove at Germany, but he heard the movement and swept around his weapon-bearing arm. Her neck was cut and her fall was complemented by more cries.

Germany snarled at the front desk. The other employee shrieked out the room number then cowered. Germany pelted away and once he was gone, the worker could finally sneak her hand towards the phone to call for help. She jolted with a gasp when she heard a screeching just outside the hospital, hesitating with the phone for a few seconds as she watched the form that stumbled inside in shock. Sirens approached in the distance, and so she was left in confusion and did not question the person that limped past the corpse of her coworker.

* * *

Bodies littered the floor in the hall up to Italy's room. Silence reigned after the screams had ended, and now Italy shook under his blanket as the arriving footsteps made themselves heard. He gasped when they swerved, and he yelped when Germany strode into the room. The expression of savagery upon his face topped with a generous splatter of blood struck him with intense fear. Italy caught sight of the cleaver just before it was raised into the air. Drops of blood sailed off the blade as Germany raced forward to meet him.

"No- _Germany_!" he screeched.

A shape leapt into the room releasing a shrill shriek.

" _No_!"

The familiarity of it petrified Germany. He paused to snap his head to the side. Prussia bowled into him before he could react and sent them both crashing to the ground. Germany let out a saturated hiss through his teeth and struggled to shove off the weight on top of him. Prussia gasped raggedly and dribbled blood over Germany as he strained to pin his arms to the floor. He choked as he cried out, "Italy, _run_!"

Italy slipped from his bed and stumbled away. He clutched at his chest as he tried to flee as fast as he could with the injuries he had attained. He met a paramedic in the hall, and he gasped out, "Help… Prussia! Germany's gone insane!"

Italy slapped his hands against the wall and hurried forward using it for support. He headed for the exit while the paramedic ran to the room where he heard growling and shouting.

The cleaver dropped from Germany's grasp. Prussia was momentarily relieved until the free hand grabbed him then was joined by the other. Prussia was lifted into the air and held fast by Germany. He squirmed and hollered. One of his arms escaped and pounded Germany's face while his legs flailed. Germany's head snapped back from the blows, yet he did not react to them. Prussia's face switched to present startlement from this. Germany kicked the window and shattered the glass easily as though in a display of his power. A second later Prussia's face lit up in horrified understanding. He writhed, but Germany swiftly jammed his body through the hole so that he was left to vainly fight nothing in the air.

Germany made sure to watch this time, but what he saw displeased him. Prussia snatched the ledge of the window of the floor below before attempting to climb inside. He slipped on his blood then landed with a smack on the grass, but his fall had been broken and Germany was left dissatisfied. Once again, Prussia had pulled through. Germany tore himself away from the window and turned to meet the paramedic who had been in the midst of preparing to attack him. Germany retrieved the cleaver and slaughtered him before he dashed through the hall. He glared as he found only bodies, more victims to create, and no sign of Italy.

The wail of police sirens was familiar even to his animalistic mind. Germany gave up pursuit of Italy as he realized that he needed to resort to flight. Germany made it outside through a back exit and instantly locked his piercing eyes upon Prussia's form curled up on the ground. He ran up to him while pocketing the blade of the cleaver. Prussia was softly moaning, "Italy… I have to…" while he tried and failed to pick himself up. His head turned, then he noticed finally that Germany was over him.

Prussia gasped and tried to drag himself away, but then Germany took a firm hold of his body by hooking his arms under his armpits. Prussia was pulled away with his heels digging shallow troughs in the ground. Germany took him away out of sight of the police and paramedics towards the side road. Prussia cried out for help until they reached the curb.

"Germany!" Prussia squeaked. "Why?"

A large truck was speeding along the street. Prussia heard it coming and he panickingly searched Germany's face. There was no mercy apparent on that visage; neither a frown nor a smile marked it. Those eyes of razor-sharpness stared down at him- those utterly unfamiliar eyes.

The driver did not see them until Prussia's body was hurled out in front of the vehicle. There was no time for the brakes to be smashed. Prussia smacked into the truck and his organs burst before he slipped and the wheels of the left side of the truck rolled over his head. After it was too late; the truck skidded and the blood-soaked wheels ceased to spin. The driver jumped and screamed upon catching sight of the mangled body that his vehicle had left in its wake.

Cracks and chips marked Prussia's head, and his earlier injury was now a hole that leaked sludgy brain matter onto the concrete. His slightly flattened face was pressed to the ground but his dislocated jaw stuck out and held a bowl of revolting soup of blood and more teeth. Grit jabbed into his entire body and a smear of blood and skinned-off tissues trailed up to him. His left hand was crushed like the roadkill of a rodent and was reduced to crunched bones that popped up between strips of bright meat.

The driver vomited to the side then began moaning, "Oh God, forgive me, please…"

The police hurried around the hospital building after being informed of the assailant's location from an observant nurse on the first floor. They were shocked to find only Prussia stuck to the hot pavement and the crying truck driver standing near him with grossly wobbling legs. By now, Italy was safe inside hiding in a locked bathroom as a whimpering, remorseful mess unaware of everything that had just happened. Simultaneously, Germany was taking his leave once again after seeing to it that his brother was truly, dead this time.

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 **If you're here, I assume you survived this chapter. I'm sure there are varied reactions, so go ahead and tell me what you thought of this in a review. Chapters should be coming out weekly so if you are confused, read on.**

 **And once again, a special thanks to my editor CastingWhiteShadows.**


	2. Chapter 2

Hungary was instantly worried when Austria picked up the phone and went abnormally pale. He sat there as though petrified, silent with the phone stuck to the side of his head. Hungary had been standing, but she now took a seat down beside him and kept her hands on her lap. She stared over at Austria while he continued to listen to the rumble of a serious voice that she could not hear clearly enough to understand. He listened for a while until he began to tremble.

Hungary's heart leapt in fear, then began to feel like hot, bubbling milk. It was so uncomfortably hot that her body began to feel heavy and sluggish. All of this because Austria had bent forward and put his hand over his mouth as the first tears flashed down his face. The shock and pain in his dark eyes had not been seen by her in so long, especially to this extent. His face told her that he did not ever want to believe what he had been told.

She slid closer, whispering hesitantly, "Austria?"

Austria gasped then let out a quaking breath. He murmured with difficulty into the phone, "Th-Thank you f-for telling me…"

Immediately after he hung up, his hand slipped up his face and removed his glasses. He did not finish folding them up neatly, but he set them on the coffee table as they were. Once free from them, he could put his hands over his eyes. Somehow it provided his tears all the allowance they required to rain down and fill his palms.

Hungary collected him and held him protectively. Already her own tears budded the corners of her eyes although she was still ignorant. She leaned in to him and whimpered, "What happened, Austria?"

He gasped repeatedly to try to control his breathing. When it was intermittently stable, Austria whined, "Germany h-has been arrested… He-he murdered thirteen people and tried to kill Italy but then… Prussia… Germany m-murdered Prussia..."

Hungary cried, " _What_?"

"Prussia is… dead," Austria whispered. "He died after protecting Italy."

"Oh my god," she moaned.

Austria broke down and recommenced his crying. He choked out between sobs, "Germany, _why_? Why d-did you d-do this?"

As no one here could provide an answer, they were left to mourn together, asking themselves why this had happened, if it was true that a nation had been killed, and wondering what would follow.

* * *

It all settled in when Germany was not present at the funeral. When they had not seen him, it was harder to believe that it was because he was locked away. Now though, they knew for sure that Germany had indeed murdered his own brother. If he had been his _normal_ self, then he would have never stayed away even if business had dictated otherwise.

The ceremony was locked in silent turmoil. No one wanted to discuss the purpose of why they were there for the longest while. There were many there, and even those not entirely close to Prussia dripped tears in quietude through the confusion, fear, and shock from the loss of a nation. The unimaginable was true and no one felt so safe anymore. That sense of false security would never be regained.

Acceptance seemed out of the question as well. Death was a known thing among their citizens, and yet it was not something that they had encountered in a long time among themselves. It was especially difficult because this death had come with no warning. There was no battle or poverty. Prussia's country was gone, yet because of his attachment to Germany, notably East Germany, it had not been expected that he would pop off so suddenly. No preparation; no goodbyes. Regrets arose easily from this.

"Did Prussia know how much people cared?" Hungary sniffed near the end. "I feel as though I was too hard on him..."

"I don't know," was the response Austria had given her.

It was odd seeing the engravement of his name alongside the others. Granted, the grave was spectacular and as grandiose as Prussia would have liked it to be, due to the pooling of money by many other nations to buy it. It was however, like a puzzle piece that belonged to another puzzle. Perhaps one that was so small that it could not be locked into place, for this cross-topped grave certainly did feel as though it was puny despite its size. It seemed as though it was too insignificant, unworthy of the one whose name was marked freshly and deeply into the surface.

Japan looked around the crowd and found that at the back, Romano had an arm around Italy and was leading him a little bit away from the others. They stopped and stood in side profile to the grave, and here Italy dove into his brother and held him tightly. This time, Romano gave no protest at all in being hugged with not even the slightest reaction of annoyance. Italy cried into him and Romano murmured to him while his fingers attempted soothing circle movements on his back.

No one could hear his mewls except for Romano, and in their separation from the rest of the group, his replies were also not heard.

"He saved my life," Italy cried, "but I just ran. I didn't check on him… I hid in the bathroom!"

"Come on, don't be ridiculous," Romano whispered. "I don't want you blaming yourself for this. Prussia wanted you to run, didn't he? He didn't ask you to come back and risk yourself. He wanted the opposite. He wanted you to be safe."

"Prussia… I feel so bad for him."

"But they got Germany now, and he won't be getting out. He'll get what he deserves."

"Germany…" Italy sniffed. "I don't want him in jail… I… I just want him back! The old Germany- not this Germany..."

"I think everyone wants the normal bastard back," Romano replied softly. "But… we don't know what's wrong with him yet."

"Can we… fix him? Do you think?"

"I hope so."

It was hard for all to pull themselves away from the grave when all was said and done to head back to the parking lot of the graveyard. They managed it eventually, but with backwards glances being given before departure. Austria and Hungary went back together without saying much, and for the entire drive they only looked forward with hollow eyes.

When they returned, it was late. They stepped their fatigued bodies up to Austria's house, and a chorus of barking arose before Austria had even set a hand upon the door handle. Once the door was thrown open, a crowd of excited dogs stood there with tails waving back and forth in flurries. When they began stamping their back paws, Austria murmured, "I suppose they need to go out."

Hungary helped him clip the leashes on them all before they went out together. Austria had Blackie, but Hungary kept control of all of the others herself as Germany would have done before. Austria relocked the door then gasped as the dog pulled him away immediately to catch up to Hungary and the others. Austria trotted along until he reached Hungary's side, where a calmer pace was assumed. Once there, he exhaled and tilted his head back to stare up at the sky and its countless stars. Hungary saw him and copied his actions, taking a good look upwards while they padded along the sidewalk.

There was a faint breeze that felt cooler to Austria than it should have. He started to shiver and become increasingly colder as they went along. The wide leaves of deciduous trees rustled in the occasional wind, offering themselves as familiar sounds of a warm summer. It seemed so unfitting to him however, when the sky and surroundings felt as though they were frosted over by remorseless winter.

"Austria?" Hungary had stopped looking up a while ago and was now looking back to him. "Shall we go back?"

He looked down back to the dogs all around them. He had partially forgotten what they were doing out here, but then he saw the filled plastic bags hanging on Hungary's fingers. The dog he was in charge of was just finishing its business, and yet only now was the stench reaching him. He cleaned up after it, and together they dumped the bags into a trash bin on the way back.

"You look exhausted," Hungary spoke to him very gently. "Please, don't wake up early tomorrow."

He agreed, for every ounce of him wanted to lie down and stay in one spot for a very long time. Once home, Hungary fed and gave water to the dogs, even giving Aster a quick brush before checking on Austria. He was done in the bathroom and now in his pajamas. She saw him ambling back to his room with his hand trailing the wall, thus she decided to follow him.

"Hey," she murmured as she strolled into the room, "do you… want to talk, or just go to sleep?"

Austria's glasses were off and he was sitting on his bed over the blankets. She understood, and slipped up beside him. They sat side-by-side and blinked in the partial darkness of the room at the rectangular beam of light that flooded in from the hallway. Austria then whispered, breaking the current silence of the house, "It feels as though I lost two people today."

Hungary nodded in solemn understanding.

Austria continued, "Why did it have to be this way, Hungary? This was not warfare. It was so random… There was… no…"

"No warning at all," she concluded as she edged closer to him. "I know. Everything was normal one day and then suddenly it all changed."

"Prussia's not coming back here ever again," Austria murmured. "Not whenever he's bored or if he's in the mood to bother us. He won't be messing around with my stuff, smashing the piano keys… o-or playing his flute for his little shows. We will never hear his laugh again except in memories… Memories- that's all Germany has left us with."

Hungary caught sight of a tear wandering down Austria's cheek. She could not stop her own from beginning to fall as she listened in silence.

"Germany…" he sighed. "Something has happened to him, and perhaps he will never be the same again. Everything about him that we remember- also gone… just, gone. No warnings; it hurts so much and I don't know what will happen now or what I will do with myself."

Hungary said, "We can only continue on. Like old times."

"It has been so long since we have lost someone," Austria replied softly. "I don't remember how to accept it. This time too, it is different. We were so close and only now can I really appreciate him."

"It starts hard but we have to take it slow," Hungary told him. "One step at a time. All we can do right now is carry on like we always do. Right now, that means sleep."

"Sleep?" Austria repeated. "How can I?"

"You must try." She lowered her voice until her words were like soporific feathers. "For your own sake."

"Hungary-"

He did not need to ask it. She said, "I'll stay with you, don't worry."

He let those words cycle through his mind.

 _Don't worry_.

She of course, left momentarily to get ready for bed as well. He crept carefully under the blankets while she was gone, still replaying her words.

 _Don't worry_.

She came back and crawled in beside him. The room did not feel so cold now that there was another presence. Despite the losses, there was still Hungary. For her as well, Austria would be there to soothe the pain. Sleep did not come easily, but it did come because of the remaining comfort that each of them found in not being alone.

 _Don't worry_.

Tendrils of darkness pulled them away into stressful dreams where their hearts jolted like those of rabbits and they woke often, covered in sweat and tears. Every time they woke, they checked to make sure that the other was still there, completely okay, before returning to the nightmares that would stay with them for a long time coming.

* * *

He did not feel particularly connected to the events, yet the depression hung over him as well. Estonia sighed over his breakfast and dragged his closed laptop towards himself. He pried it open and let it power on while he took his first bites. While he waited, he let his confused curiosity go without bounds to try and answer the lingering questions.

 _So nations_ can _die while their nations still exist_ , he thought. _But how? Is it really true, or was it only the case for Prussia because he no longer has a country? Or does it not, if he is really considered to be a part of Germany? We fear death like most people would, because we die if our countries go out. But… can we die when there is nothing wrong with our homes? We feel pain, therefore we try not to get hurt even if we heal fast._

 _Germany tried killing Italy without hesitation. Did he think it would work, or was he just hoping for it? What happens after a nation dies anyway? If strong nations like America are killed, does he come back, or never again? Does someone else replace him? That… sounds terrible…_

Stress overcame him as he tried to imagine what would happen to him. Once everything disappeared for him, he would not know the time passage. It might seem like he had blinked and then was back, standing somewhere random on Estonian soil, or nothing would ever happen. He wondered if the latter was a possibility if he simply stopped eating. A shiver raced down his spine. Spooked, he reached for his laptop, an item he was sure would comfort him.

His mood improved sharply after checking his blog. Finland had commented on something, and Estonia's initial response was a smile then light laughter. He typed a reply then read over everything else. When he felt urged to type another message, he began clacking away on the keyboard once again. The rhythmic sounds were soon however, stopped abruptly at the alarm call of bird belted out loudly in his yard.

He looked over at the window in curiosity before he rose and walked over to it swiftly. It was rare that something would disturb one of the birds that hung around in his yard, especially a bird that had sounded so close to his house. He grasped the curtain firmly and yanked it to the side.

He blinked immediately in surprise. Russia was cutting across his property in powerful strides on a direct route to his door, but then he stopped and snapped his head to the side alarmingly fast to hone in on the sudden movement. They met each other's eyes, and Estonia was startled by the sharp focus in Russia's gaze.

 _What is Russia doing here?_ he thought. _He looks rather mad..._

The lack of smile on his face was also concerning. Even if angered, Russia was sure to cast a false, disturbing smile upon others. His face was settled into near placidity right now despite his glare, but in the blink of an eye it changed. Russia bared his teeth and seemed to snarl before breaking out into a full sprint towards him. Estonia yelped as he stumbled away from the window, which a few seconds later caved inwards, exploding into a storm of glass shards. His arms were raised to protect his face from the onslaught, but he crashed into the couch and rolled over the arm before landing on the glass skidding across the floor.

He was relatively unharmed, but now he hollered in surprise as he saw Russia now planted in the living room. Estonia made it into a low squat then jumped backwards in time just as Russia dove for him. Russia landed like a cat on the spot where Estonia had just been, then stared over as Estonia hopped backwards trying to regain his balance.

Russia tackled him around the middle and together they fell onto the television stand. Estonia's eyes flew open and he squeaked when his back cracked against the stand. He looked upwards as Russia leaned over him, and he felt large hands sliding up to his throat. The television toppled and met Russia's head, then those hands fell away as Russia was knocked over. Estonia skittered to the side and barely escaped the hand that had snapped out in an attempt to grab his wrist.

Estonia gasped out a, "Russia, why are you doing this?" before Russia jumped up and hurled the television at him. Estonia sprang to the side and slid under the table before the television flew by. There was a loud smash as the television struck the wall and ruptured. Estonia groaned internally but then re-prioritized and focused on the feet trotting away from him. He listened carefully and heard an unusual snap, then he watched his curtains collapse into a pile on the floor. After this, the feet raced towards him before they disappeared entirely. Estonia, galvanized, frantically crawled away before Russia slammed down on the table and it busted under his weight.

As he shot out like animal fleeing its burrow, Russia took a swing at him with the curtain rod. The metal clacked against his skull, and Estonia's vision spun. Russia leapt for him but Estonia dodged drunkardly and crashed into the couch. He desperately snatched a huge couch cushion and held it up as the rod come down for him. It served well as a shield for the next blows that followed, yet he bolted from the couch after Russia had come too close. He ran across the room with the pillow raised to protect the side of his head facing Russia.

Russia swung at his legs but missed and smashed the glass case. Delicate and old items dropped and broke on the floor, their pieces settling on top of the glass. Russia threw away the rod, which hit the television stand and smashed a glass door, then lunged at Estonia. When Estonia felt hands on the pillow, he let go and hurried away while Russia's view was blocked. Estonia scrambled into the kitchen and snatched two knives from the rack. He whipped around and gasped when he saw that Russia was already here, prowling across the room towards him.

Estonia froze with his back pressed against the counter, but Russia glanced at the knives and had now paused his advance. Russia flicked his eyes back up to his face. Terrified by those strange eyes, Estonia swallowed then inhaled with a quiver. He then tried to create an appearance of bravery, and he choked out, "R-Russia, stop. Don't make me do this."

Russia took two large steps forward, and Estonia pressed in harder against the counter.

"It would b-be defence because you're the one attacking…" he continued.

Russia stepped closer regardless. The glint in his eyes was still fully dangerous, and Estonia began to shake in fear despite the weapons he was holding.

"You don't want to do this," Estonia tried.

Russia watched Estonia's hands for a few seconds. Estonia knew that they were shaking, because the thought that he might have to plunge the knives into Russia made him feel woozy. He did not know how easy it would to break flesh; he thought that his trembling might cause his stab to be weak and therefore ineffective. He told himself that if that became the case, then he would have to try to jam the knife into Russia. That only made him imagine how the metal would dig through hot innards and erupt blood and juices over his hands.

This all made him want to vomit. His body felt heavy while it shook, and there was a mighty temptation just to collapse, passing out on the floor. Everything about this situation horrified him. It was all so unexplained and mortally random to him. Estonia was faltering under the stress, and Russia knew it.

Russia lunged and as Estonia raised his hands, Russia caught his wrists and pushed his arms to the sides. Now that the knives were out of the way, Russia pressed into Estonia to keep him thoroughly pinned against the counter. Step two was the act of forcibly raising Estonia's arms then bending them so that the tips of the knives went towards his neck.

Estonia struggled but could not resist Russia's strength. He dropped the knives then stared back at Russia's twitching face in fearful expectation. Russia's grip on his wrists tightened as he stepped back from the counter. Estonia fell forward into Russia, feeling the softness of his shirt for a second, before Russia shoved him backwards. Estonia's already bruised back struck the counter and drawers, and he inhaled sharply while he slid down to the floor. Russia grabbed a hold of him, lifted him, and smashed him repeatedly against the counter.

He could feel the stickiness of blood stuck to the cloth of his back. Estonia felt weak, and once Russia sensed this, he tossed Estonia onto the ground. He landed on his side and was momentarily petrified by the pain clutching his back. He reached out his arms and started dragging himself away as Russia collected the two knives from off the floor. Estonia looked back and caught sight of this, then a reminder burst in his mind.

 _I can die._

A shock of adrenaline raced through him, and the pain was gone. He hopped upwards and pelted away. Russia did not show any sign of surprise or awe. He simply sprinted after him with each hand armed with a knife.

Estonia swerved and flew up the stairs with Russia thundering up behind him. He raced down the hall, crying out when he heard how Russia was rapidly drawing closer. Estonia threw his head over his shoulder and screamed when he saw the knives about to descend upon him. Estonia careened, slipping into the bathroom, slamming and locking the door behind him. He skittered over to the toilet and put down the lid before hopping onto it. He reached up to the window and opened it. As he wrestled to remove the screen, there was a crack of splintering wood then a slam as the door cracked against the wall.

Estonia screeched a swear and chucked every item he could get his hands on at Russia. First it was soap and shampoo bottles, toilet paper, towels, then the razor. All of these things bounced harmlessly off him, nothing stopping Russia from proceeding. Estonia grabbed an aerosol bottle and was about to hurl it when he realized what it truly was.

He raised it and aimed at Russia's face. He squeezed the trigger and the air fresher blasted his eyes at a near point blank range. Russia did not cry out in pain, but he stumbled back silently and rubbed at his eyes with the back of his hands. The knives were crossed over Russia's face and he was temporarily blinded. Estonia glanced around, ran to the toilet, and pulled off the tank cover. He dashed forward and struck a solid blow to the side of Russia's head with it.

Russia stumbled to the side and fell back into the bathtub, catching the curtains and ripping them off the rod. Everything dropped down on top of him, and Estonia saw him instantly trying to tear himself out with the knives. He used this time to drop the tank cover, jump back to the window, and remove the screen. He leapt up and started to crawl out the window. His upper body was through when an intense sharp pain caused him to freeze and scream. He felt the hot blood pour over his leg, then a tug, and more blood pumped out from him. Russia stabbed his calf and yanked out the knife again before Estonia slipped out the window and smacked against the dry, hard ground.

He groaned and tried lifting himself up. Soon he heard footsteps pounding towards him and he screamed as a shadow passed over him and hands grabbed him.

"We got you," a male voice told him.

He was hoisted to his feet. He tilted his head back and saw one of his neighbours. Another glance around, and he noticed that many others from the neighbourhood had arrived.

"We called the police," the man continued. "We heard the screaming and saw that someone broke in."

Estonia listened and his heart picked up excitedly as he heard sirens coming near.

 _Oh, thank goodness._

Glass shattered as the entire window hit the ground. Estonia looked up in time as Russia dropped from the ledge. There was a heavy smack in front of him as Russia landed on his knees and knife-wielding hands. Instantly Estonia screamed and jumped back into other people. They held him and ushered him away as Russia got to his feet. They did not make it far however, before Russia's piercing eyes located Estonia and he tore across the grass towards them.

A teenager leapt in between them. She grabbed one of Russia's arms and attempted to lock it behind his back while sweeping his leg. Russia cut the attempt short by swinging the knife in his other hand around and stabbing it into her carotid. A massive eruption of blood, and she fell. Estonia's eyes flew open wider and his shriek went high.

The men hurried Estonia away. Russia raced for them with one knife flashing silver and the other spraying excess blood onto the lawn. Estonia tried to escape the hands holding him, wanting to turn and sprint away himself, but their shock left them mindlessly still grasping him. Estonia was partially dragged backwards, and he writhed and screamed as he watched Russia approaching. They noticed eventually that they were doing more harm than good, so they threw him in front of them onto the street. The three of them bolted across the pavement with Russia hard on their heels, slicing the air with his knives. They made it into another yard when police cars zoomed into sight. The scene was seen right away and many officers hopped out and charged after them while even more cars were heard on their way.

Estonia and the other two men ran out in front of a house. Here, the police officers ran onto the sidewalks with guns raised and directed at Russia.

"Stop!" an officer yelled in Estonian. "Put the weapons down or we will fire!"

Russia did not stop, but she tried once more in English. This time he halted. Estonia stood and stared at Russia, aghast.

 _Hold on… he can understand what is said to him?_

"Do not attack!" the officer said. "We will shoot if you do not yield!"

Russia glanced at the line of guns then looked back over to Estonia. There was still a glow of fury and air of predatory nature about him. It made Estonia feel the need to get away further from him, so he took a few steps back.

Russia lunged at the movement. Guns blasted and three bullets sank into him. Russia fell into Estonia and both of them crashed into a bush. Estonia rolled over the leaves and sharp sticks away from Russia, but he looked over and gasped. Russia was heaving and patched with spreading red, yet the unfaltering glare still existed in his eyes. Russia shifted closer while raising the one knife he had managed to hold onto. Estonia cried and scrambled away before Russia weakly stabbed the bush.

Estonia stumbled away as many officers hurried over to Russia. He collapsed into one of the police officers, clung, and began to sob. He was afraid to see what had become of Russia, so he only stared at the pavement over the officer's shoulder. He was dimly aware of his blood continuing to leak down his leg and back, although soon he partially heard a fuss being made about it.

His aching head flopped over and he happened to catch a sight of the dead girl across the street in his yard. He screamed, and after this point, it all became a blur for him. The blood loss and hits to his head made sure of this, and so there was a confusing period of light, darkness, hands, and voices. He learned eventually that he was crying and saying incoherent things, because eventually he could feel his face burning up and his tongue, heavy and strange-feeling, flapping around in his mouth.

As the ability to feel returned, he was overwhelmed by sore tenderness. His entire back was bruised and dotted with scabs, and he felt as though one leg was vastly heavier than the other. When the lights merged into shapes, he saw a sky-blue blanket draped over him. He wiggled his toes and watched the movement as though he was testing if the outline of legs were real and his. He blinked, finally taking in the predominantly white room surrounding the bed he was lying in.

 _A hospital?_

He shot up and yelped at the pain. Estonia paused for a few seconds to recover, sitting up and letting out a sigh. He then became aware of the IV line and he looked over at the source before he drew away his blanket. He revealed his bandaged leg, and promptly winced at the memory of feeling the knife repeatedly enter his leg while not seeing it happen.

 _Russia!_

There was no one here, yet he was not relieved.

 _How much time has passed? What happened to him?_

He remembered the deafening shots and Russia lying on the bushes, dripping his blood over the flat, spade leaves. How his eyes stared at him and by looking back into them he knew, that Russia would never have stopped trying to kill him.

 _Nations can die._

If this had not been real before, it was more real now.

 _Is Russia dead?_

He found himself hoping it was not so. He did not want another death. All he wanted was for things to stop being so horrifying and confusing. It was even worse now, however.

 _He was like Germany_ , Estonia realized. _Why? What's going on?_

His head hurt more as he tried rationalizing everything. He slowly leaned backwards and sank into the bed with a sigh. He stared up at the ceiling for a while until he heard footsteps arriving. He was startled, but he was sure to sit up more carefully this time.

It was Finland who entered the room. Estonia felt washed with relief and glad to see his friend.

"Estonia!" Finland exclaimed immediately. He hurried over to his side.

"Finland," Estonia sighed. "Ah, am I happy to see you."

"Everyone knows what happened!" Finland gasped. "I came over right away to see you!"

"Everyone? Already?"

"Lithuania went by your house just after it happened and he heard the whole story from your neighbours…"

"Really?" Estonia blinked.

Finland nodded deeply once before continuing, "He notified us. I even drove by your house and saw… I can't believe it. The window was destroyed and the curtains were down so I could just see in there… what happened?"

"Russia…" Estonia murmured.

"That's what Lithuania said when I spoke with him but, do you know why?"

"No."

Finland said, "So it's like-"

"Exactly. The same as Germany."

"That's insane!"

"It was strange though," Estonia muttered. "With Germany, he didn't seem to understand what we said to him but… I think he did. Russia stopped when the police threatened to shoot him."

"So Germany understood," Finland said, "but ignored us?"

"Yeah."

Finland paused, then asked, "Are you okay?"

"Luckily. It's just my back and legs. My head got hit a bit, but I survived with nothing serious."

"I can't believe he tried to kill you. Why you? Do you have any idea?"

Estonia replied softly, "No."

"This is bad," Finland carried on. "Something is causing all this and I think it means that someone else is going to turn crazy."

Estonia's heart rate picked up.

"Anyone one of us at any time," he whispered.

Finland agreed, "The last attack was just last week. If it continues, and I am sure it will, then this is serious!"

Estonia groaned and shut his eyes.

"How do we prepare for that?" Estonia sighed. "Even if the police are warned, how can we be expected to protect ourselves if no one even knows what's going on yet?"

"Do you think the police can figure it out?" Finland asked.

"Maybe, but they still don't know what's wrong with Germany. By the time they find out too, more attacks will have happened."

"Yeah." Finland looked worried. "We're going to have to be very careful from now on."

They became concerned over this for a bit longer until they purposefully changed the subject to try and lighten the mood. They spoke about innocent things until a nurse came in with food. That was when Finland said goodbye to him then departed. Fifteen minutes alone in his room nibbling at the food while left to his own thoughts, and then more visitors. Estonia's spirits were raised when he spotted Lithuania and Latvia entering the room.

"Hey," Estonia greeted them mildly.

"We just saw Finland down there," Lithuania said. "Sorry we couldn't get here sooner. I didn't know they were allowing visitors so soon, but I guess you're okay."

"Yeah, it's not so bad." He said this, but was still greatly discomforted by the tender pain.

"I just missed it," Lithuania sighed. "I wish I had come a little earlier. I could've helped you."

"I don't know," Estonia exhaled. "I mean, we know Russia better than most, but not this Russia. He was like a demon. And his eyes… he only wanted to kill."

"I saw him get taken away."

"What? Really? You were so close?"

It was strange imagining that Lithuania had just been in the city when he was frantically racing around his house with an armed maniac after him. Now he wondered what it would have been like if Lithuania had been there in the house with him, and he became worried for him.

Then Estonia remembered his earlier thoughts. He gasped out, "Russia- is he alive?"

"Yes," Lithuania replied. "At least, when they took him."

Estonia dipped his head, although he was truly happy to hear the news.

"I suppose he's off to jail now too?"

Lithuania shrugged. "He'll go back to his country, and they'll decide if he's too dangerous to keep in public."

"They wouldn't let him go, would they?" Latvia inhaled sharply. "Not after he killed someone just like that!"

"It's his boss's decision," Lithuania replied.

"But him attacking me is a problem," Estonia said. "I mean, his boss has to explain that."

"I'm fairly certain he's going behind bars," Lithuania assured them.

Latvia said, "First it was Germany, now it is Russia."

Then they launched into a conversation that likened the one that Estonia had had with Finland. They grew afraid to the point that they would look behind them occasionally to be sure that they were safe in this room.

"I don't want to leave you now," Lithuania murmured. "If someone comes in here and attacks you…"

"I don't want to go back to my place," Estonia whispered. "I mean, I can at least get the windows fixed, but I don't want to be there alone."

Latvia said, "If… it really _is_ going to get worse, then how about we stay together?"

"You know, that might not be a bad idea." Lithuania looked to Estonia.

Estonia replied, "I'll have to tell my boss. I'm sure it'll be fine as long as I'm working."

"You can both stay at my house," Latvia offered.

"Okay," Lithuania said. Estonia nodded in agreement.

"Until this is over," Latvia affirmed, "we can stick together. It'll be safer this way."

"Even if one of us goes nuts," Estonia added, "the other two should be able to help each other out."

"Right," Lithuania confirmed. "With all of us together, it'll be harder to take us by surprise."

"Exactly," Latvia chimed.

It would be so. For now, this seemed to be the best option they had against this so far unpredictable threat, so they thought that this plan was essentially foolproof. At this time they could not tell if they were right, or if they had created a coop tempting a fox to dive in and slaughter them all in seconds, ripping them to shreds and filling the air with red mist.

Time would only tell who the next victim would be, and the next who would turn. All knew however, that as though it had been whispered into their ears on a stressful, dark night, these things were guaranteed.


	3. Chapter 3

The nights were long and clutched by rigid silence. When the wind blew, dread rose in their hearts as they could no longer hear the creaks in the house and know if something was creeping down the hall towards their rooms. Everyone, especially those in East Europe trapped between Germany and Russia, despaired during the storms, wondering if someone was taking advantage of the noise. They never wanted to be alone; without a weapon, so to say. Sitting up on their beds, not foolish enough to burrow under blankets for protection, they stared at the doorway while thunder cracked outside.

This went on for two weeks. After the celerity of the last two attacks, it was only expected that the next case of savagery would occur within the same week in which Russia had attacked Estonia. It did not however, leaving them only to fear that with every approaching second, a nation would walk up to their house with the telltale, piercing gaze scanning the premises for them.

The house of Baltics remained trapped in a system of high-alert, but they truly did feel safer with the decision they had made. They fared better on those nights in comparison to the other European nations. Soon some desired the same plan of action, having had heard about what the three had done. This itself, was admittedly one of the things Denmark wanted to bring up when he called for a meeting of the Nordics. It was the main reason. For so long had this idea stood out before everything else in his mind, as though it was stuck like glue to the inside of his skull.

It was arranged that they would meet just at his house, semi-formally, for there was still a plan to discuss business. Denmark bought drinks and snacks beforehand and made sure they were ready and close by for when they all would settle in the lounge area he had upstairs. He was sure to check himself over in the mirror minutes before the planned time of arrival, adjusting his black suit and the collar of his deep red undershirt, and smoothing over his tie. He admired his image quickly then hopped out of the bathroom a few seconds before his doorbell chimed.

He trotted to the door and swung it in towards him.

"Ice!" he cried out.

He was surprised that he had arrived first, considering that he was the furthest away. When he commented on this, Iceland muttered, "Well, I tried to leave earlier to not be late," before he slipped past him inside.

Sweden came next, followed by Norway, then Finland. They all found their places at the small table and were offered alcohol immediately by Denmark.

"Alright," Denmark began once he had a mug in his hand. "The first thing I wanted to address, well, I'm sure you know already."

He took a sip while the other four bowed their heads in serious nods.

He continued, "I think we need to make our own plan of defence."

"You mean live together at someone's house?" Finland asked. "Like what the Baltics are doing?"

"Yeah, exactly!" Denmark exclaimed. "Right now we're all spread out and vulnerable, but I think if we stick together, it is less likely that we will be killed!"

"But it is more likely that we will be targeted," Norway uttered. "That's five of us in one house."

"Can we handle that?" Sweden asked.

"Sure we can!" Denmark nodded furiously. "We're tough! We can have lots of weapons nearby so that taking down anybody will be a piece of cake!"

"And if one of us goes psycho?" Iceland remarked. "They might slit a few of our throats in our sleep before we notice."

Denmark threw out, "How will any of us go psycho if we always have an eye on each other? If it really is a drug, then we'll make sure that none of us takes it."

"But maybe it isn't something purposefully taken," Finland said. "What if Germany and Russia were injected with something? Or maybe their food was drugged?"

"Well, no one's going to inject us when we're all around…" Denmark drew his lips out into a line. "And I think we can watch our food carefully."

"There might be a time where we are separated," Norway pondered aloud. "Going to the store, walking in the garden, travelling from room to room even."

"Then we can't be alone!" Denmark exclaimed.

Norway muttered, "What about the bathroom?"

"Well, it's a closed room," Denmark replied. "It should be fine as long as others are close by when you are in there."

Iceland cried, "What? How long do we have to keep something like that up for?"

"It's not that bad of an idea, guys!" Denmark pressed. "Getting sick of each other is the least of our problems. The Baltics are doing it, and they're doing fine. I say we should give it a try as well!"

"We'll become a bigger target house," Iceland huffed. "There's no ignoring that."

"No!" Denmark interjected. "Who'll want to go for us when there are so many of us to fight?"

Sweden nodded in agreement to this point, and Denmark smiled in relief. The others began to consider the possibility more seriously now that more support was being shown to it.

"What weapons will we have?" Iceland asked. "And whose house will we stay at?"

"Mine," Denmark answered without hesitation. "I have already started to make preparations."

"Why your house? I have good guns at my place," Finland pointed out.

"I thought that you could take them with you," Denmark said. "Keep them here. Everyone else can take their best things too."

"I suppose it doesn't really matter," Norway sighed. "As long as we're allowed to go."

"So it's a yes then?" Denmark perked up like an interested cat.

"I think I would feel safer if it's all of us together," Finland admitted. "It's hard being alone and afraid to fall asleep."

Sweden made a positive sound accompanied by one firm nod.

"Alright," Iceland agreed.

Denmark looked to Norway, who was already saying, "Okay, I'll do it."

"Awesome!" Denmark cried. "Alright- you'll have to help me stock up on supplies! We're going to need a lot of food, weapons, cameras maybe…"

Denmark looked at his mug then took an enthusiastic gulp from it. Sweden took the chance to comment, "We can't be drunk if we're expected to be alert."

The mug was dropped down onto the table. After a regretful sigh and a wipe across his mouth, Denmark breathed, "Right. We'll have to watch our intake."

There was a lull in the conversation. It ended when Iceland said, "Didn't we come here to talk about business?"

"Oh- yes…" Denmark swept away from the table to fetch a few folders.

The others took out their own things and set them on the tabletop. They kept their hands over their belongings as they waited for Denmark to return.

* * *

"I don't want to see them…"

The officer looked at Italy with a slight flash of surprise striking his face.

"Are you sure?" he asked. "You see, we're trying to decide what to do with him. Germany is different than the others. We can't just imprison our own nation."

"He shouldn't be different." Italy bowed his head as his heart was clutched by sorrow. "He murdered people… without reason. Ger-Germany… is… _dangerous_."

"But if you watch these videos," the police officer said, "you will see that he is acting like himself again."

Italy's eyes widened, but not from a pleasant surprise. He gasped, "No! Last time he was let out when you thought he was normal again, he killed Prussia!"

"But much time has passed," the officer said, "any drugs he might have been affected by would have surely worn off by now. We're searching for opinions before we decide what to do with him."

Italy wobbled from the conflicting emotions inside him. He understood that whatever had affected Germany would surely have left his system, yet he did not want the same mistake to be made as last time. He was held fast in the vice of fear, and he shook his head furiously side-to-side.

"Keep him behind bars," he whispered.

"Not even house arrest?" The man raised his brows.

"No."

"I was told by my boss to show you the videos first," the officer said, "before you make a decision. It would not be just to condemn him if he is innocent, you know."

Italy became more stressed. Memories of good times with Germany hit him, back when he trusted him. His mouth opened partially as he wavered between opinions; emotions. He was terrified by what Germany had done, yet the thought that Germany was innocent, alone, and trapped in a cell when he was normal self, distressed Italy. He felt guilt arise over this notion as he imagined Germany being told that he was to stay and that his best friend had supported this. He could picture the hurt on Germany's face as he realized that he had lost all of his trust, and that someone who had been close saw him now as a nocuous criminal.

Italy held his own hands together and slowly asked, "Does he know everything that he did?"

"He does. We have a video of us relaying the news to him."

Italy froze. In the case of Germany's release, he was having scruples, but it would be morally right to at least see the videos. He agreed in the end.

The police used his own laptop and opened up one of the files that were stored on the USB. Together on the couch, they stared at the screen as the selected video began to play.

"Mr. Germany."

Another officer was speaking in the video. It was German, but Italy had no difficulty in comprehending the dialogue.

"You claim that you are unaware of the reasons as to why you are here?"

The familiar voice replied, "That is correct."

Italy hardly breathed as he listened intently.

"Tell us then, the last thing you recall."

Germany paused, then murmured, "I was being released for something that I don't remember. I was told that I had attacked Italy during the meeting, but I don't know why. My brother, Prussia, he came to pick me up."

"And then?"

"I don't know."

"You do not know what happens next?"

Italy watched Germany's face. It was pale and his inner anxiety was recognizable in the muscles set under his skin. His posture was rigid as he attempted to display faith in his responses. Germany looked directly at his interviewer, breathing at a nearly controlled rate.

"No," Germany replied. "I do not know what happens after that."

The officer said, "After, Mr. Germany, you and Prussia were in a car crash."

Germany appeared startled.

"A crash?" he echoed.

"Who was driving, Mr. Germany?" the officer asked.

Germany's voice seemed tense as he responded, "I don't know, but- Prussia, is he alright?"

"You were driving, Germany. Does this sound familiar?"

"What happened?" Germany cut in.

"You drove the car," he told Germany, "and you crashed the passenger side of the car into a tree."

Germany jolted.

The officer continued, "Prussia was injured in the crash. Witnesses have videos showing you leaving the scene after taking a quick look at your brother."

"No!" Germany exploded. "I would not do that!"

"You ran," the officer said. "But you had a direction."

"No!" Germany protested. "This can't be true!"

"We have footage of you stealing a meat cleaver from a culinary shop after this."

Germany went silent suddenly, but he clung to the edge of his chair tightly while leaning forward and staring at the officer.

"You went to the hospital immediately after stealing the cleaver. The hospital where Italy was staying. What was the name of that hospital, Germany?"

"I don't"- then something clicked in Germany's mind- "Wait, Prussia told me this. It was the DRK Kliniken… Berlin Westend."

"But," the officer said, "How can you remember that, if you did not remember that you were driving?"

"Excuse me?"

"You claimed that you do not remember who was driving the car," the officer said, "but it was decided who was driving before you were given the destination."

Germany blinked.

"What?"

"It is true."

"No." Germany shook his head. "I am sure that he mentioned it first, and then I forgot what follows."

"So you walked up to the car with him, and then?"

"I remember being outside and seeing the car."

"When you stated that the last thing you remember was being picked up by your brother, this includes walking up to the car?"

"It does," Germany said.

"What did the conversation up to the car include?"

"He told me where we were going."

"That is all?" the police officer asked.

"Yes."

"But the video we have clearly shows, that you initiated the conversation."

Germany seemed confused again.

"No, I-"

"So what did you say to him then?"

"I don't remember…"

"But why would your memory loss jump around like this? Surely, if you remembered the name of the hospital, you should have remembered the event before you were told the name."

Germany persisted, "But I don't remember. I don't know why it is this way, but somethings are clear, some blurry, and then I just don't know."

"What things are blurry?"

"You're keeping something from me still!" Germany snapped. "What happened after I got the cleaver? That's why I'm here, isn't it? Enough with asking me what I do and do not remember! Tell me what I did!"

The officer was unfazed by the sudden aggression.

"You are here because you have proven yourself to be a danger to the world." The response slid out smoothly. "You murdered thirteen people in an attempt to murder Italy in the hospital, then you killed your brother Prussia when he returned to stop you."

Germany seemed to shatter. He folded over and shrieked, "No! That's not true- he is a nation! He cannot be killed!"

He had not denied that he had attempted this feat, but the news seemed to be too impactful to absorb immediately.

"It is true," the police officer said. "You threw him into the street in front of a passing vehicle. This, with his existing wounds, resulted in his death."

Germany's face turned red and exploded into tears. His muscles clenched and he stared at the floor as the yelling began. Swears and sobs ensued, then screams. By then, Italy had whispered with a tight throat while his own tears dripped off his jaw, "Turn it off."

The officer beside him did this. After a respectful second of silence, Italy was asked, "Do you believe his reaction was sincere?"

"I do," Italy murmured.

"Do you believe he is stable?"

"Right there… I think so."

"Do you believe we should release him?"

Italy shook his head.

"No," he stated. "Do not let him go."

"Is he dangerous?"

Italy's voice dropped into a tone frail from fear. When he replied, the words were so soft that he was barely heard.

"There's still something wrong with his eyes."

* * *

As Italy told the officer this, the Nordics took a pause from their lengthy discussion. They enjoyed the snacks and drinks for a few minutes, and Sweden headed off to the bathroom. Once this happened, Finland asked if there was another bathroom available for him to use, and Denmark showed him the way.

Denmark returned and slid back into his chair, soon pawing at a mug he was disappointed to find was empty. The rest waited in silence, looking at papers blankly while listening to glass sliding back and forth across the table. After a while, a realization struck them that became undeniably concerning. Iceland could not hold it back, so he broke the silence.

"Are we close enough?" he asked.

Denmark and Norway understood what he meant. Denmark closed his eyes and nodded once while saying, "They are very close to this room. We'll hear them shout if something happens, and we can be there in a few seconds."

"Are you sure?" Iceland had not liked the idea of sticking close before, but now that they had decided that it would be their near future, his stress compelled him to want to be in a close-knit system already.

"We'll be fine," Denmark affirmed. "After all, I've locked the door after you guys arrived, and all the windows have been locked too since this morning."

They calmed themselves with this reassurance.

* * *

"Visitors," the guard rumbled as she entered the hall with her pocket of keys rattling against her hip.

Russia sprang to the bars and clasped them tightly. His heartbeat picked up as he spied Ukraine and Belarus walking down towards him. He cried out their names and they increased their pace to make it to him faster.

"Oh, Russia," Ukraine sighed.

She and Belarus reached out to touch one of his hands, but the guard growled, "Watch it. You don't know what he'll do."

Russia frowned. He slipped his hands away from the bars and let them hang limply at his sides. He turned his head, let his eyes fall shut, then murmured with a chalky voice, "You know what happened."

"We do," Ukraine spoke soothingly. "But we know it is not your fault."

Russia closed his eyes and swallowed.

"Someone did this to me," he rasped. "But I don't remember anything."

Belarus pressed in tight against the bars, crushing her face against the metal to be closer to him. Ukraine held onto the bars, and asked him gently, "Did you take anything?"

"I don't know," he murmured. "I went to bed… then I woke up here."

The guard said, "He was savage until a few hours after we locked him up. Then he went all calm, and starting asking about where he was. Claimed he couldn't remember a thing."

"She doesn't trust me," Russia uttered. "But my boss does. He wants to get me out of here. He knows that I'm okay now, and that this wasn't my fault."

"You should not be in here," Belarus agreed.

"But you know… everything that you did?" Ukraine asked carefully.

Russia went silent.

"He knows," the guard spoke out. "We told him all about it. That he smashed up Estonia's place and sent him to the hospital while killing a girl in the process."

Ukraine and Belarus saw how Russia stiffened, knowing instantly the guilt bubbling uncomfortably within him.

"I did not mean to hurt anyone," he choked. "I…"

"Doesn't change it," the guard muttered. "It doesn't matter if you know it or not, you're a danger and that is how it is."

Russia's shoulders sagged further.

"Don't worry," Ukraine spoke up. "If your boss thinks you are okay, then you won't stay here."

"You will not be kept in here," Belarus asserted.

Russia exhaled, "I do not want to be here. I am sad for what I did, but that is over."

"Well," Ukraine continued on, but with hesitation, "the first time they thought Germany was safe to come out, he was really not."

Russia gasped out, "But-"

She interrupted him. "I know. It's been two weeks. They are also debating whether to release Germany today. Did you know that?"

He shook his head.

Belarus said, "Others are being asked about you two for opinions."

"If that is the case," he murmured, "then I will not be allowed to be free."

"You know about what happened to Prussia." Ukraine looked at Russia's face, trying to read it when it was turned to the side. "Do you think Germany should be let out?"

Russia stared forward and replied simply, "Yes."

The guard guffawed, let out a few barks of sarcastic laughter, before exclaiming, "Well of course _he_ would say yes!"

Russia turned, taking a step toward the bed in the corner before stopping. Ukraine and Belarus instantly knew that the guard's words were wounding him. Ukraine stared at her aghast while Belarus glared and growled, "What do you mean by that?"

"The events are connected," the guard answered in haughty confidence. "Those two had the same goals. They want each other to be released to continue on with their slaughter game."

" _Slaughter_?" Ukraine gasped.

"Of the nations." The guard gazed at her with a smirk. "And anyone else who just gets in the way. That's you guys."

Ukraine and Belarus understood the fear that the other nations had about being targets, and they shared it as well. This knowledge was not new to them, but it was aggravating to hear the guard accusing Russia.

"No!" Ukraine cried. "Russia would never want this!"

"I wouldn't underestimate him," was the reply. "You don't know if he is acting."

"Ukraine," Russia whispered, "Belarus… I don't want to kill anybody. I never did."

"Stereotypical words," the guard hissed. "He expects you to believe this crap."

Ukraine and Belarus turned away from the guard to physically demonstrate their dismissal of her words. Ukraine murmured tenderly to Russia, "I know you are you right now. Whatever happened, has passed."

Russia's quiet words were like a weak breeze. "Thank you…"

He turned back and wandered closer to them. They waited by the bars as he advanced slowly with his head dipped. He stopped before them and looked over them while sliding his hands over one of theirs. As his warm touch met them, Ukraine and Belarus jolted. Russia was equally startled, and he hopped back, flashing his eyes back and forth between them fearfully.

"What is it?" he yelped.

"Oh my goodness!" Ukraine choked. "Russia, your _eyes_! What is wrong with your _eyes_?"

Russia went pale.

"My eyes…?"

"The colour." Belarus stared at him wide-eyed. "It's off!"

Russia began to shiver.

"What do you mean?" He reached a hand up to his face. Very carefully, he set his fingers onto the eyelid of one closed eye. He felt it, dropped his hand, then hesitated. He put his hand over his eyelid again and felt the eye underneath. His sisters watched as his trembling increased.

He took his fingertips off for a second, then opened his eye. His fingers returned and touched his eye directly. He tapped it once, then gasped.

Her brother's name was ready on Ukraine's tongue, but then she watched Russia crumble. He fell to his knees, then dropped to his side, hitting his head off the floor. She cried out and even the guard jumped up.

"What the?" the guard cried.

Russia quivered on the floor, gazing ahead with his strange eyes. Feeble sounds were emanating from him, and they continued on despite the shouts of concern arising from Ukraine and Belarus.

Belarus whirled around and snarled at the guard, "He's in shock, help him!"

The guard snapped, "This might be an attempt to get me to open the cell so he can attack you!"

"Please!" Ukraine cried.

"Try talking him out of it," she huffed, "if you really think he's innocent!"

Belarus seemed to bristle and she stomped up to the guard. Ukraine ignored the argument that commenced behind her and called out to Russia.

"Russia? What's wrong? Talk to us!"

Russia twitched before his hands crept up to his face. He felt both his eyes, and his body snapped backwards as a wail was thrown out from him.

"No, no, no!" he cried. "No!"

"What?" Ukraine gasped. "What?"

"Who did this?" he groaned. "Why…?"

Russia then choked in an inhale before he screeched, "These aren't mine!"

They all gasped as he smacked his hands against his face and immediately began to claw in a frenzy at his eyes. Suddenly red burst from him, trapping itself under his fingernails.

"No!" Ukraine screeched. "Russia, _stop_!"

The guard swore and jammed the key into the lock. She did not take her eyes off Russia while she hollered at the visitors, "Get out of here! I'll take care of this!"

Ukraine and Belarus stumbled away, too horrified to do anything else but obey. The guard slammed the cell door shut as a precaution behind her before hurrying over to the frantic form. The last thing the others saw before they skittered away was the guard kneeling beside Russia, forcing his hands away from his now blood-streaked face.

* * *

"It's been too long," Finland uttered.

He had joined the other Nordics in waiting at the table ten minutes ago. They were now restless, sitting up too straight to be classified as usual, as they hoped that the tall form of Sweden would return to the room with the hint of an embarrassed blush on his face. Time continued to pass however, and he did not return from the bathroom.

"Everyone." Denmark had urgency in his voice. "Come with me."

They burst from their chairs and hurried to fall in behind him. Denmark swept around the corner and hurried towards the bathroom he knew Sweden had headed to. He froze at the door. It was not closed, but it was opened in just a dreadfully inviting crack. Within that room, was absolute silence.

Denmark inhaled sharply, then shoved the door. It flew inwards but he snagged the handle before it banged against the wall. The others behind him held their breath as their three pairs of wide eyes scanned the interior of the bathroom past him. Denmark padded inside, then leaned to the side to check the sink.

"He was in here," he said. "The sink's wet."

They all stiffened together.

"Where is he now then?" Iceland hissed.

They spoke quietly now with their ears straining to pick up noise.

"He never came back," Norway murmured. "So he is around somewhere."

"If he is…" Denmark avoided describing it. "Then he would have gone searching for weapons, I think."

"The kitchen!" Finland gasped. "He might grab the knives!"

"We need to defend ourselves," Denmark said. "There's a lot of stuff in the kitchen. We could head there to get some things if he isn't there already…"

"Idiot," Norway muttered. "We don't need to confront him. Let's call for help and get out of here!"

"Okay, follow me," Denmark whispered.

With hearts pattering like thunder, Denmark led them back the way they had come where he felt as though they were less likely to encounter the missing member. Denmark ushered them into a room after turning on the light, and he closed the door carefully behind them.

"Okay-"

Denmark was stunned for a moment.

"Um…"

They stared up at the window that had been busted open. The glass had not been broken; the screen and glass had all simply been carefully removed and were nowhere to be seen.

"That was definitely not like that before the meeting."

He lifted his eyebrows and blinked. He turned to the others.

"If he's outside, how about we stay inside and call for help?" Denmark gave Norway a terrified, shaking grin, acknowledging both their original plans now.

They dashed away and threw themselves back into the hall. They began to tear across the house to the kitchen, when Iceland called out that he was going to get his phone. He was already bolting in the other direction when Norway picked up chase, calling after him. Denmark and Finland could not hear what was said as they trotted down the stairs, but they proceeded into the kitchen and found it unoccupied.

Denmark grabbed at the knives and shoved two handles into Finland's hands. Finland gasped and dropped them onto the counter.

"What? We can't stab Sweden!" Finland cried.

"But we have to defend ourselves!"

"Something else, please!" Finland snatched Denmark's wrists, which were holding two knives upright.

"Like?"

"Can't we just knock him out? We don't want to kill him!"

"Fine!" Denmark snapped unintentionally at Finland in the stress. "Pots! Pans! Take your pick!"

Finland's jaw dropped, but he managed to clutch a frying pan to himself. He watched Denmark take one as well and he noticed how visibly consternated he was by the way he blinked rapidly and respired swiftly.

"We have to be careful," Finland whispered, "not to hurt him."

Denmark took two large, handled pots into his free hand for Iceland and Norway. He wavered, but said, "I know. I don't want to hurt him either."

His bottom lip curled, proving his regret that they were caught in the claws of this dilemma.

They ran out from the kitchen, but Denmark halted and Finland crashed into him. Finland popped his head out from behind him and together they goggled at the front door that was unlocked and wide open, the warm afternoon gently wafting in air over them.

"Did he loop back inside?" Denmark gasped out. "No, wait- the door was locked. So he went outside, but then- who opened that window in the first place?

Denmark gestured to Finland with his head towards the door. Finland crept forward, afraid that at any second Sweden might appear and catch sight of him. With his unarmed hand, he reached out and tapped at the door until it began to swing shut. Finland quietly closed it, then locked it.

They then picked up an increased sense of urgency. The mystery of the window troubled them, and they raced back across the house to find Iceland and Norway.

* * *

When Finland and Denmark had been sprinting to the kitchen, Norway cried after Iceland, "Stop running! My hair clip's a phone, you know!"

They flew back into the room before the end of the sentence had been completed. Iceland did not reach for his phone, and he whirled around and stared at Norway in confusion as he handled his tiny electronic device.

Norway had finished dialing. He held the phone up to his head, and in the brief wait, he looked at Iceland softly, with brotherly affection, while sighing, "You forgot, didn't you?"

Norway's tone went serious as he began to relay the situation they were in to dispatch. Iceland wandered away from him and approached a window. He cautiously peeled back the curtain and took a peek out into the yard.

He stifled his grasp although it would not have been heard through the glass. Just below him, Sweden walked by on rigid legs before swerving and pacing back the way he had just come.

"Norway," Iceland whispered. "I see him."

Norway's eyebrows lifted, and he snuck to Iceland's side. His blinks tickled as his eyelashes scraped against the curtain when he put his eye against the crack. He saw Sweden pacing as well, and he informed the person on the other side of the call of this.

Iceland took over the spot and spied on Sweden. He was captivated by fear as he watched Sweden doing these bizarre things when just twenty minutes ago, he had been normal. Sweden had ceased walking, and was now clutching at his forehead while his mouth worked from low words. Iceland wished he could hear what was being said, but he was afraid to open the window and attract his attention. He stared as Sweden twitched then jerked his head side to side as though he was shaking water out from an ear.

"I don't know what's happening," Iceland told Norway. "He's twitching a bunch now."

Norway finished his call, then took a look outside at the new developments. Denmark and Finland burst into the room, with Denmark already exclaiming, "The door was open too! Something else is up!"

"He's out there," Iceland said as he received a pot to himself.

"Sweden?" Finland inhaled.

"He's acting strange. Look." Norway stepped away from the window.

Denmark passed him his weapon then checked on Sweden before Finland did the same.

Finland said, "He's saying things, but I don't know what."

"If he's turning, what would he be saying?" Denmark mused.

Denmark snuck his hand under the curtain and crept it towards the switch that would unlock it.

"Denmark!" Finland breathed. "Don't! He might hear you!"

"Everyone be quiet," he hissed. He silently unlocked the window and ever so carefully slid it open at a snail's pace. His hand drew away, and he continued to watch Sweden. Wind stirred the curtains, and he backed away with one finger to his lips as a reminder, and the other hand giving them a thumbs up approval.

They stood on either side of the window where they would not be seen even with the shifting of the curtains. Now they could hear the words just barely, in raw Swedish.

" _No, no… not right. They are-... Life ends… forever. End. No… No… I- End…_ "

The other Nordics cast each other highly concerned gazes.

" _Friends… Family… End… Can't- End. Everything must go. Stop…!_ "

There was a screech that startled everyone eavesdropping.

" _No!_ "

Silence.

They heard footsteps scramble away. Denmark swore finally then uttered, "He's affected."

"Can a drug do that to someone?" Norway asked. "Because he was fighting the influence of _something_."

"He felt whatever it is coming on," Finland said. "But he's losing."

"He's already lost," Denmark muttered. "Everyone, be on guard. He's going to try breaking in here soon."

Norway shushed him. He glanced outside, but Sweden was gone. He closed the window and locked it. He looked back to Denmark and said, "We have to block up that other one somehow before he gets ideas."

They headed down the hall towards the room with the missing window.

Iceland breathed out, "But if someone else broke that window, it was they who did something to Sweden."

"Crap! They might still be here!" Denmark exclaimed.

Finland asked, "Could they make another one of us turn?"

"Not if we stay together," Norway answered. "But I think that whoever did this has already ran off. They wouldn't want to stick around and get caught."

Denmark came up to the square hole in the wall and peeked out it. He did not see Sweden. He looked around the room with the others to find something to plug up the hole with, but nothing seemed suitable. Denmark tugged the curtains closed instead so that it would not be so obvious that the glass was gone.

"Well, he probably won't climb up here," Denmark said. "I bet he'll take down the door, fast and simple."

They stepped out of the room and waited in the hall. If Sweden came through the window, they would hear and have time to escape.

"If he gets in," Norway said, "we should do everything in our power to get out."

"We're trapped for now," Denmark agreed. "But help will come soon."

They jumped at the sound of shattering glass further away in the house. They inhaled sharply and turned their heads towards the source of the noise before scrambling away in the opposite direction. They hurried towards the door, sweating at the thought of Sweden sliding through that unknown, broken window into the house.

Iceland was the first to the front door. He unlocked it and threw it opened, finding the sun instantly blocked. He shrieked as a hand snatched him and yanked him outside. He was hurled at the ground, and he saw Sweden pouncing for him while hearing the vain screams of the others in the background.

Silver blinded him, then the swinging ax swung down and neatly implanted itself into his ribs.

" _Iceland!_ " Norway screeched. He sailed off the front step and raised his pot to strike. Sweden smashed Iceland's ribcage again with the ax before whirling around to face Norway. The arm holding the pot was latched onto in a flash, and Norway was pulled so that he was set off balance. His legs folded and he stared up in horror as the ax dove down for his head.

Denmark screamed ferally before tackling Sweden. The blade of the ax slid harmlessly across Norway's hair as Sweden was thrown to the side. Denmark fell on top of him, pounding his face with punches. The glasses were missing, so all his blows struck flesh with satisfying cracks. Denmark hollered swears and split Sweden's lip, then he was kicked away. The ax swiped for his throat, but Denmark bent backwards and only a thin, red line slashed his skin.

Denmark snarled, "Fucking-!"

Sweden raced forward, ax arcing around. Denmark leapt to the side, then hopped back as Sweden pursued him. Finland dove in behind Sweden, about to attack when Sweden snapped his head back. He turned on a dime and exploded off his feet. Finland was nailed with a kick to the chest and was felled. Sweden whirled around with the ax, and Denmark dropped to the ground before he was hit.

Denmark snatched a leg and pulled it forward with all of his strength. Sweden tripped and fell backwards, crashing heavily against the ground. With the air forced out of him, he was stunned for a moment. Denmark found his pan and joined Finland in the merciless attack of metal against face. Denmark slammed his foot onto the ax-wielding arm and ground it in while whacking his face again and again.

Skin broke and blood erupted over Sweden's swelling face. He growled and struggled, grabbing onto Denmark's ankle despite the hits that he was given for this. He pushed the foot away then launched upwards. Finland was toppled and Denmark hurried after Sweden as he dove away. Denmark dropped the pan to try and grab Sweden's hips, but his grip slipped and he dropped. His chin landed on one of his running heels, then Sweden was out of reach.

Denmark and Finland pulled themselves up, battered and hot with adrenaline. Their eyes became circles as they heard a fresh scream.

Norway had been desperately trying to stop Iceland's bleeding. Iceland was already hardly responsive; Norway leaned over him crying and pressing an article of his own clothing against his chest. He had heard the fight and the yelling, but he was too frightened to look away from Iceland's barely expanding ribs, as though they might cease their movement if he did.

Then, the ground rumbled from sprinting footsteps. Norway looked back and screamed at the sight of Sweden running to them. A jolt of sharpness slapped him when eye contact was made, feeling as though needles were rushing through his marrow. The ax was lifted into the air and those eyes that were abnormally sharp were still locked on him.

Norway jumped up and tried to grab Sweden's arm early, but the attack was still partially successful and the metal sunk deep into his shoulder. Norway fell with a cry beside Iceland. He held his hand over the cut as he rolled up his head. When he saw Sweden standing over his critically wounded brother, he shrieked in absolute horror- by far more afraid than if it had been him Sweden was standing over.

Sweden's pupils were deep darkness, unreadable as though a labyrinth stood in the way of reaching his inner intentions. Before new screams could be conceived, a strike composed of all of Sweden's power slammed down into Iceland. A mighty crack, and blood shot upwards before splattering scarlet droplets across the lawn. Denmark and Finland charged but they were too far to prevent another one of those powerful blows from being achieved.

The final shower of blood rained over the grass and Sweden's clothes. The ghost of a smile was now on Sweden's lips as he regarded Iceland's torso, which was now opened as though a crude autopsy had been conducted on him. Before he was touched, Sweden dropped the ax onto Iceland's lacerated heart then took off. Denmark bellowed in rage and grief, shooting after him across the street and into the neighbours' yards. Finland dropped down beside Norway and they bent over Iceland, sobbing and screaming helplessly over the mutilated body.

Meanwhile, Denmark chased Sweden through the streets. Both were sprinting as fast as they could, inhaling ragged breaths and refusing to collapse. Denmark was not losing him yet he was frustratingly not coming any closer to him.

Denmark screamed to his passing citizens, "Stop him! He's a murderer!"

The desired effect was accomplished. Brave people dove for Sweden. He dodged and threw them away, but he was greatly hindered now. Denmark was nearly upon him yet then Sweden tackled a cyclist and snatched his bike. Just as Denmark reached out, Sweden rolled down the hill and accelerated.

" _No_!" Denmark roared. " _You fucking bitch_! _Coward_!"

Denmark hurried down the hill after him, but all in vain. Sweden gained distance, then took sharp turns around the city so that soon, he was out of sight. Denmark pulled at his hair, tilted his head back, and screeched to the sky. Tears spilled from his eyes and sobs and swears erupted from his throat as his citizens stared at him in shock and confusion.

" _Sweden_!" he screamed. " _I'll kill you_! _Motherfucker, you're dead_!"

Then, as though the life had been sucked out of him, Denmark dropped to his knees. He folded over and began to cry. This crying lost power and faded shortly out into a whimper. Under the unaffected, hot sun, he continued to whimper, for whimpering was all he could do now that it was too late.


	4. Chapter 4

"What are you talking about?" Russia asked softly.

There were a few officers in front of the cell. They were speaking lowly, ignoring him as they spoke to his boss. He did not like the murmuring; he knew they only did it so that he could not hear them. Russia understood that this meant that the conversation was about him, and it was bad news.

He saw one of the officers open his black-gloved hand to reveal a cleaned eye to his boss. One made of solid materials with a violet-coloured iris just a shade off from Russia's true eye colour. Upon sight of it, Russia unconsciously touched the cloth of the black eye patch that covered the gaping hole of his missing left eye. With his hand holding one side of his face, he watched them in concern as they discussed what he was sure to be the answer to what the fake eye served.

He had not minded that the eye had been taken. He feared the reason they both were in his head, although the conversation in front of him that he was discluded from was striking him a hard blow of fear.

"What is it?" His tone rose into a higher one.

Then he caught a snippet of dialogue that caused him to freeze.

"Everything that he sees and hears, someone else can."

 _What?_

His boss muttered quietly in continuation. Russia began to shiver.

"Please!" Russia felt fear encroaching on his heart. "What's happening?"

Another thirty seconds of being ignored, then his boss turned and walked up to him.

"Russia," he said, "how are you feeling?"

"Not well," Russia whispered. "What's happening? Can I go home?"

Ukraine and Belarus had visited him just hours ago. News had spread to his boss, and now his false left eye was in his raised palm, being shown to him.

"You cannot go home, Russia. I am sorry."

Russia chest felt squeezed.

His boss continued, "Your eyes are cameras. We believe they are sending video with audio live to another location. It is no longer on in this eye. The other, however…"

His boss waved at him. The hairs on Russia's spine tingled as his boss stared into his eye while looking for someone else looking back out. An air of helplessness overcame him. He felt as though he was a vessel for a demon, and that creature inside him was being addressed by his boss.

Russia murmured, "What are you going to do?"

"I don't suppose you can regrow eyeballs, can you?"

"I do not think so."

A corner of his boss's lip was tugged to the side. "Well, we need to figure out how to disable the camera without blinding you completely."

Russia nodded. After some thought since his rash actions hours ago, he realized now that he did not wish to have his last eye removed and be blind. He wanted to see, but he felt heavy coils stacking up inside him at the thought that his real eyes were gone forever. Melancholy struck him from their loss.

"How long will that take?" Russia asked.

"They don't know."

"Why can't I go home and wait?"

His boss shook his head. "No, Russia, you have to stay here. We don't know yet what affected you two weeks ago, so we simply cannot just let you out. If your eyes are causing this and you still have one, then you are a danger to others. And even if that is not the case, then you still can't go back to work if others from another country can see what you have in front of you."

"But I can stay at home-"

"I have already said it. You may still be dangerous."

Russia dipped his head, dispirited.

 _No one trusts that I am okay now._

"I understand," Russia said, although he hated the taste of those words.

His boss nodded slowly in approval. He stepped away from the bars and returned the eye to the officer that had lent it to him. As he took his leave, his boss turned his head over his shoulder and told him, "I will return later to check on you."

Russia's one remaining eye gleamed in the dim light as it followed the departing figure.

* * *

Denmark returned after hours of searching. He stumbled up the path to his home, trying to look away from the unattended blood painted over his lawn. Once at the door, he clawed at it instead of knocking. Eventually, Norway unlocked then opened it, and they were caught in eye contact for a few silent seconds. Denmark regarded the redness in the other's eyes, knowing that he had not ceased crying since his departure. Finland crept into sight behind him, with wide, shining eyes that were round like those of a terrified baby animal.

He staggered into the house on leaden feet. Norway pushed the door closed with a careful touch of his fingertips, then locked it. They made it together to the couch where they all too softly placed themselves down. Finland dropped to the side limply and pressed into Denmark's side while Norway tilted his dizzy head to take another look at Denmark.

The wild hair that expressed his energetic personality was drooping and disheveled. The sweat had swept some of the gel away from his hair and the wind had blown it all into disarray. His face itself was haunted, pallid, and twitching. Norway knew that there were fronts of emotions colliding inside him and creating a storm. Denmark was in a fragile state of mind, as were the rest of them.

All Norway could think about was the loss of his brother. He had so many questions, and no answers. There was simply, only fear left for him to take as he pleased. Norway shivered like the other two, and he pressed into Denmark as well.

Finland whispered, "He tricked us… He got us with that simple trick… He…"

Finland kept repeating this until Denmark heard him. Denmark looked down at him, eyes clearing as intrigue stirred within him.

"What do you mean?" Denmark murmured.

"He threw a rock in through the window," Finland spoke softly. "So that we would think he was there and run in the other direction. Sweden sprinted around the house and met us at the door. That way, he didn't need to go inside and waste time trying to find us."

"That's too smart," Denmark sniffed.

"It's just the start," Norway breathed. "It's not Sweden but… something bigger. Someone, or more people, are trying to have us all killed."

"Iceland," Denmark whined. "Oh, poor Ice… This should never have happened, and it cannot continue!"

The tears that had been shining in Denmark's eyes spilled down his face as he lifted his head and stared at the ceiling.

"I swear that with all of my ability, I will end this, and I'll do whatever I can to protect you both! We'll get ourselves bodyguards. We'll tell everyone to get guards. The cure or even a reason for the madness was not given to us by our leaders although they promised that everything would be taken care of. We have no choice but to take this seriously. Two of us are dead! We have to take action ourselves, and nothing will stop me from doing it!"

Norway and Finland were looking at him in awe, recognizing him as the small yet strong light in this situation trapped in darkness. Denmark hugged them both, and as the three of them cried, he choked out, "Because… No matter what happens, I do not want to see you get hurt. I… can't take it. I already cannot take _this_."

"Denmark." Norway's tone had a prick of urgency to it. "You don't know what's going on. We don't want to lose you either-"

"Nothing will happen to me," Denmark said. "I can't die; I won't let you two suffer again."

"You can't control every situation!" Finland gasped. "You can't be this cocky! You'll die!"

"I'm not being cocky!" Denmark cried. "I'll be careful. I will take care of myself so well for your sake. Please… I want to do this. For Iceland."

"Denmark," Finland whimpered, "what are you planning?"

Denmark closed his eyes, then replied slowly, "I'm going after Sweden."

"By yourself?" Norway inhaled sharply.

"The police will do their searching," Denmark said, "but I'll travel alone. It will attract less attention, and I bet I can find him before they can."

"Let them do their job," Norway uttered. "Stay here with us."

"I can't! If Sweden gets another one of us, I'll never forgive myself for staying here and doing nothing."

"Denmark," Finland rushed, "don't go. We're scared for you."

Denmark looked back and forth between them both. "I know that Sweden or anyone else who goes nuts will not hesitate in trying to kill me… so I'm… scared too. But I can use my fear to keep me safe. Trust me, please. Don't worry for me. Worry about getting yourself armed guards and securing this house. Who knows when the next attack will be, and where."

"And when you find Sweden…?" Norway trailed off.

"I'll take him down," Denmark sighed. "I will not stop until the end… whatever that may be."

"It's not Sweden's fault," Finland choked. "Denmark, you know that."

"I do," he murmured. "So I'll try to capture him instead. Get him fixed, cured from whatever is messing him up. That'll be my first intention."

"He's gone," Norway said. "So how are you going to find him now? He may go anywhere."

"I bet you," Denmark replied, "that if he's as smart as we think he is, he'll try and take out as many as he can in the shortest amount of time. He'll go to Latvia, and figure out an attack on the whole house. I thought that I could beat him there and wait for him. It's not like he'll get there before me, when he's not going to be able to get on a plane or anything."

"We already told a lot of people what happened," Finland updated him. "They're passing on the word, but I already contacted Estonia myself. He says they're ready for any attack."

"Good," Denmark exhaled. They had already done the informing that he had planned to do after this conversation. He had not expected that they would be this clear-minded after what had just happened, for he knew that he had hardly been so. The higher necessity for such things were however, taking the lead over their own grief.

There was a pause where they only cried silently save for a few sniffles here and there, holding each other and softly breathing out through their mouths. When the time was right, when Norway could sense Denmark's internal restlessness, he said, "You will stay for the funeral, won't you?"

Denmark hesitated to think, then he answered, "Should we have a funeral? I mean, inviting people and such. That just seems to spell disaster, doesn't it?"

Finland and Norway looked to each other.

"We have to do something though," Finland said. "Even if it's just us."

"I know we should bury him in Iceland, but I am afraid that I won't have time to do this and beat Sweden to the Baltics," Denmark murmured.

"The Baltics can manage for another day or so without you there," Norway told him. "You must wait. This will be the last thing we do with Iceland…"

Norway's voice went thin at the end of his sentence and his trembling increased. Hot tears were squeezed from his eyes and he pressed his head against Denmark's ribs. Trying to comfort him, Denmark submitted, "Of course I'll stay for his funeral. I could never miss saying goodbye to him…"

Norway's crying only increased, and he sobbed into him with a high whine escaping him partway through.

"My little brother," he wheezed. "My innocent, precious, little brother is gone- why? Who would be so cruel to do this to us? To make us kill those we love?"

"I'll find out." Denmark held Finland and stroked Norway's hair. "And I will put an end to everything."

Now his tune changed. Norway calmed his breathing, then spoke in a voice that was more alike his regular one except that there was a sadistic bitterness to it.

"Do it Denmark, please. I trust you. Avenge Iceland, and don't get hurt."

Denmark raised his eyes again, already imagining the victorious end of his quest.

"I will. I promise."

After this had been said, they continued to mourn until the time came to leave for Iceland. In less than two day's time, they were the lone attendants of his burial in the soil of his homeland, the place that had birthed him, and where he was meant to be. A part of them departed that day, but for Denmark, a powerful determination leaked into that hole in his heart.

From his core to his skin, nothing was going to allow him to rest until that promised end. _Whatever that may be_ , as he had told the remaining scraps of his anguished family.

* * *

Denmark was shocked as he approached the yard to be spotted by a soldier. He had been standing beside the crouching form of Latvia, who had his back to him so Denmark had been unable to see what he was doing. Instantly he had been seen in the open and in broad daylight, and now he hollered and put his hands up as the shining black surface of a rifle was directed at him.

"No, wait!" Denmark cried. "I'm unarmed! See? I'm not affected!"

Denmark stood as still as possible to help aid the soldier with his decision. Fortunately, Latvia turned around and gasped out, "Don't shoot him! We knew he was coming here!"

The rifle was lowered. Denmark advanced carefully, trying to appear non-threatening. Latvia stood up and approached him, the soldier sticking strictly to his side.

"How's it going?" Denmark called out before he stopped in front of him.

"Oh, it's good! Everything's great," Latvia replied.

Denmark saw the dirt coating on Latvia's hands. He peeked past him in curiosity.

"What are you working on?" he asked.

"Yes, um, traps. Lithuania said we should cover the lawn in traps and alarms in case someone tries to prowl around the house."

Denmark followed Latvia to the hole he had been digging. Beside it was a pile of sharpened sticks.

"Whoa, what's this?" he exclaimed.

"Well, there's a window right there," Latvia told him, "so I thought that if someone wants to look into the house or get in, they might come here. I'm working on a sort of pitfall. I can cover the hole, and if someone steps in it once it's all set up, they'll injure their leg."

"That's really great!" Denmark proclaimed. "I'm impressed!"

"I already set up four of these in the yard," Latvia beamed.

"What?" Denmark scanned the yard with wide eyes but could not locate a trace of these mentioned traps.

It was then that Estonia showed up with another soldier walking beside him. Having had overheard the last thing Latvia said, Estonia explained, "We're working very hard on protecting ourselves. We're going to have injuring traps around the yard, and Lithuania's setting up a chicken wire fence to keep animals out. We're also going to put sensors on the fence so we'll know if someone tries to climb over it."

Denmark inquired, "So basically you're going to cover the entire place except for the path?"

"Yes. If someone wants to get in, they have to go out into the open. Then, we have some soldiers to protect us. They can shoot them if they're dangerous."

"But when you have to leave the house?"

Estonia replied, "We haven't left the yard in a while, and once the traps and alarms are put in, we won't have to leave the house. The soldiers get food for us already. We aren't leaving this place until it's over."

Denmark said, "You've got a good plan going for yourself."

"Yeah, I think we're safe. The soldiers were enough, but the rest is extra assurance."

Latvia spoke up, "So you see now? We're ready for Sweden."

"I'm glad to see that," Denmark said. "But is it alright if I stay here and wait for him? I think he'll still arrive. If he can't get in, he'll run off again. I want to catch him before he escapes like last time."

"Sure, you can stay for as long as you like," Latvia replied.

Latvia decided then to politely take Denmark inside. Estonia left to return to Lithuania and help him with the fence. Latvia led Denmark to a makeshift sleeping area, where Denmark could set down the backpack of clothes that he had with him. He was then introduced to the table, and invited to sit and have water and snacks. Denmark obliged to everything.

He sat comfortably, his eyes drifting over the items of the tidy place. Denmark looked over immediately when a new face entered the room.

"Poland, you're here too!" Denmark remarked.

"Oh yeah." Poland made a stop by the table to take a snack for himself. "When I heard about this place from Lithuania, I thought heck, I got to get myself in there! So, here I am."

Poland also had a soldier following him. As the soldier swept around to Poland's side, Denmark espied the Latvian flag on his shoulder. It was clear now that all these soldiers were Latvia's, not those issued by each country's own government. He supposed that it was easier this way.

Denmark was surprised when Poland blathered on about his soldier, saying, "So this is Gabriels. He like, follows me everywhere. I like teaching him my card games and Polish."

The soldier guard turned out not to be as stiff as he had thought he would be. Now that Denmark was welcomed and clearly not a threat, he cracked a smile and admitted to Denmark in accented English, "Yes, I love learning new things, especially languages. Lithuania and Estonia are teaching me theirs. I'm really liking this job."

"You stay here all the time then?" Denmark cocked his head in curiosity.

Latvia's personal soldier replied, "Sure. Day and night, for awesome pay. And I'm always occupied so I never bored."

"Right," Denmark said.

Latvia asked, "Denmark, didn't Norway and Finland get their own guards too?"

Saddened, Denmark frowned.

"Yeah, they did," he replied. "But their soldiers have shifts so they get changed at nine every night."

"That doesn't sound all that good." Latvia's face was instantly concerned. "I think you should tell them to get that changed. It sounds dangerous. If someone figured out the pattern, they could do something."

"I didn't think of it that way. I'll call them then, right now."

"Here." Latvia waved him over to his home phone.

As Denmark made the call, the other four stayed courteously silent. There was still a sense that they were being rude for hearing everything, but Denmark seemed to have forgotten them temporarily as he took care of the other Nordics.

When he had hung up, Latvia commented, "You care about them a lot. Why not stay with them?"

Denmark shook his head, replying lowly, "No one is going to have to suffer what we suffered again. I'm not going to sit around. To help Norway, Finland, and Sweden, I can't stay at home. I have to do _something_ , because, Latvia, I don't want to see another one of my family get buried again."

Latvia nodded soberly in response, so struck by the sorrowful message that no words crawled over his tongue. He would not blurt out anything; today he decided firmly that he would be silent and do nothing to upset Denmark about his loss.

* * *

Four days had past since the news of Sweden's assault had reached Austria and Hungary. They were startled to hear of Iceland's death, and they felt sympathy for the sole three who had attended his funeral.

"I didn't know him well," Austria had admitted, "but I know that he did not deserve this."

"He was innocent," Hungary agreed. "It's tragic…"

They were concerned to hear that Sweden had escaped the grasp of the police, but they did not believe that they would be his first targets when they were far from Denmark.

"Do you think he'll attack Netherlands?" Hungary asked him.

"It depends which way he ran. Netherlands is close, but if Sweden took off the other way, he may just go down to Poland then to the Baltics."

Hungary said, "I heard that Poland joined them in Latvia's house."

"Really?" Austria blinked.

"They also have soldiers protecting them. Estonia wrote it on his blog."

"Ah."

At that time during this conversation, there was a knock at the door. Hungary and Austria jumped then they peeked around the corner, Hungary armed with her go-to weapon, the frying pan. The door was still locked and closed, and they gasped when another knock emanated from just outside it.

"Stay here, Austria," Hungary whispered.

She crept soundlessly up to the door and looked through the peephole. When she saw Kugelmugel standing there with a canvas and bag of supplies, she opened it.

"Hello!" she exclaimed.

Her voice had been cheery enough to assure him. Austria strolled into sight after hearing it. He looked at Kugelmugel, then greeted him as well.

"Good morning, Kugelmugel. Come in."

Kugelmugel entered and seated himself on the couch. Austria decided to fetch for him a piece of the cake he had just baked, along with a drink. While he was gone, Hungary joined Kugelmugel on the couch where two of Germany's dogs scurried up to them in order to see who the guest was. Without saying anything, Kugelmugel set his things to the side and reached down to stroke their heads softly.

Austria gave the things to Kugelmugel, who smiled nicely and accepted them. Austria now said, "It's nice to see you here. Is there anything you need, or did you just want to visit?"

Kugelmugel replied after he had swallowed, "I wanted to say hi, then paint some of your flowers in the garden."

"Oh, how lovely," Hungary nodded. "You're welcome to them."

It was well into August, yet the well-tended garden still comprised a few marvels. There was a bench outside where Kugelmugel could sit and work. He was often there whenever he dropped by, to think about art or create it. The visit was therefore short and friendly, so he could soon amble into the garden to paint in peace.

"Hungary," Austria said once he was gone. "I'm going to work for a bit. Do you think you could keep an eye on Kugelmugel? I am worried for him. He should not have been out on his own."

Hungary understood. Even if Sweden was assumed to be far away, Austria still feared that they could be surprised. Hungary agreed, also not wanting any calamities to occur.

Austria went away, and Hungary sat by the window where she had a view of Kugelmugel getting into his work. She had a book with her to ease her boredom, which she planned to read while constantly glancing up to be sure that Kugelmugel did not require her aid. This system worked for an hour, before she found that she needed to leave to go to the bathroom. She set her book down and left her post by the window.

She never saw the face concealed behind the leaves of a bush in the back of the yard. It had just appeared, only able to catch a glimpse of her departing, before its owner crept out past the cover of the foliage. Kugelmugel was so engrossed in his painting that he did not even hear the soft swish of grass under the approaching feet. To be sure that success was guaranteed, the feet did not stop until they were just behind the bench.

Kugelmugel gasped when a shadow was thrown over him and coldness pressed into the back of his head.

* * *

Hungary had just stepped out from the bathroom when the boom of a pistol rocked the air. She immediately screamed and tore towards the window that looked out into the garden- the piece of the yard where she knew the shot had undoubtedly come from.

"Kugelmugel!" she screeched.

Yet she knew halfly in her heart that her call had been in vain. She rounded the corner and froze. The view above where her book lay unaffected, was a sight that made her lose control of her legs. She fell to the ground, her hands over her gaping mouth, and her fingers parted so that her eyes could continue to be locked onto the sight despite her strong desire not to look.

Green and red mostly composed the scene. Grass spotted with the cheery colours of flowers were speckled with blood, blood that increased in amount closer to the bench where Kugelmugel was bent over his canvas. He was not looking at his partially completed work however. Only thick, nearly black blood dripped out from the remaining half of his blown-out head to soil the painting.

Hungary was at such an angle that she could see the chunky mess of hair, brain, and skull. She cried out shrilly behind her hands as she rose and backed away from the window. Her heart pounded as all of the dogs in the house harmonized into a chorus of urgent barks.

 _Shot!_ her mind cried. _Someone shot him- they're in the yard. They have a gun!_

She knew she had to call for help. She jumped away from the window, hurrying to find the nearest phone.

 _Sweden? No… that's too far away! There's no way that he could have gotten here so fast… It must have been someone else! But… who?_

 _Austria?_

It had been an hour since she had seen him. She had heard that it had only taken twenty minutes to _affect_ Sweden.

 _No! Not him!_ she internally screamed.

She ran through the hall. She heard a door up in front of her open, and in the next moment, a figure leapt out into the hall. It grabbed her, and she hollered and fought to free herself from the hands holding her arms. Then came a crying from the other as she beat him madly.

"It's not me! Hungary, stop!"

Hungary ceased her aggressive attempt once she saw that Austria was not attacking her. He stared at her with a pale face and a quaking body. One dog sprinted to them, still barking in alarm. He was ignored as Hungary looked over Austria and saw how deathly afraid he was. He came up to her and held her arms again, seeming to need something to grasp.

"Kugelmugel!" Austria's eyes shone with tears. "Hungary, I told you to watch him!"

"I'm sorry," she squeaked. "Oh no, Austria, I-"

"He's dead, isn't he?" Austria wailed. "That sound w-was- Kugelmugel was shot!"

Hungary clutched Austria's warm face.

"We have to get help."

Austria nodded weakly in response. She let him go and took the lead in the race to the home phone back in the living room. She stumbled around another frightened dog before bursting into the room in front of an opened window. Hungary did not see the figure crouching in wait on the lawn before the glass was blown apart and the rattle of a machine gun drowned out all sound.

Austria's scream was not heard as Hungary's body jerked as though in an obscure dance. When she fell, the shots ended. Austria stood frozen where he was, his mouth wide and eyes huge as he choked on his own breath.

"H-H-Hun…"

She stirred in her growing puddle of blood. She raised her eyes to look at Austria with red leaking from the corners of her mouth.

"Don't come over here," she whispered with the faint strength of life still in her. "Hide, Austria. Sw…"

She started to drag herself across the carpet towards him. A dog loped past Austria with a high whine escaping him, hurrying to Hungary. Aster went to sniff her, but then a growl deepened in his throat as he stared out the window at something Austria could not see. The dog skittered away with a yelp a second before a quick spurt of bullets zipped by the spot it had just stood. The golden retriever raced by Hungary to the safety in the hall beside Austria, where he regained composure and began to growl again with his tail raised.

Austria bent down and took hold of Hungary's wrists. He started to drag her towards him, but stopped when she shrieked in pain.

"Go, Austria!" she groaned. "Please, he's coming!"

Austria cried, "I won't leave you!"

He pulled her out of the living room and quivered from the strain of lifting her up to her feet. He held her as he waddled backwards, letting her lean against him and her heels drag across the carpet. Blood soaked him, hot and metal-scented. Austria whimpered words of reassurance into her ear, about the help they would get and the hospital she would go to soon if she just held on- which he _knew_ she would.

"Austria," Hungary panted. "It's Switzerland."

" _Switzerland_?" Austria coughed.

Aster broke out into snarls. Through the hole of the large window, the long barrel of the machine gun poked through first then was followed by the body. He snapped his head in the direction of the dog before it lunged for him. Switzerland caught sight of Austria dragging Hungary away before he threw himself to the side and dodged the muscular mass hurling itself at him with an open mouth. Sharp teeth clacked together as the dog bit the air, then he landed and turned to Switzerland with fur bristling as though electrified.

Switzerland aimed the gun at Aster when Berlitz, Germany's Doberman, tore down the hall and met him. He was felled with the jaws of Berlitz clamped deeply into his arm. He did not scream in pain. Switzerland regarded the dog with blazing eyes before he smashed him in the head with the butt of the gun. The first strike did nothing, and the dog clung determinedly to him while growling savagely. The Doberman shook his head side-to-side, tearing Switzerland's flesh further in an attempt to make him yield.

Yet Switzerland still did not react to it. His pupils constricted in rage from being held down. He glared down the hall then back to the dog. He released the machine gun to reach for the pistol strapped to his hip. This way, he could turn his arm and be able to point the gun at the dog's head.

Austria yelled out in horror. Berlitz's eyes gleamed and he jumped off Switzerland before the gun fired. The dog was stunned by the sound, and Switzerland leaped up and kicked him powerfully in the ribs. Berlitz yapped then crumbled, and now Aster flew into the action, a single bark of fury flying out from him. Switzerland swiftly kicked him in the chest, his foot cracking his ribs. All became so silent after Aster hit the ground. The two dogs lay hurt with their flanks heaving in rocky breaths, their paws twitching helplessly.

Switzerland looked back to the hall, but Austria and Hungary had disappeared. He hissed through his teeth then ran after them. The assortment of shotguns, rifles, and ammo on his figure bounced and clacked together as he followed the trail of blood.

Austria heard the clatter of the weapons coming closer. He shook harder. Hungary felt it, and she whispered hurriedly, "Put me down. I'll pretend to be dead. You have to _run_!"

"Hungary, no, that won't work!" he exclaimed.

Switzerland jumped out from behind the corner. Austria screamed, "No! Switzerland! _Don't_!"

Switzerland squeezed the trigger of the pistol and the bullet plunged into Hungary's head. She twitched in Austria's arms, her eyes rolling as her body convulsed. Austria screeched. Then, after the cock of the pistol, and a closer distance, Switzerland fired again and a chunk of Hungary's head exploded. She was still, but Switzerland fired one more shot before he was satisfied.

Austria was left screaming and covered in gore. Hungary slipped from his arms, and Austria tripped over his feet before he tore off. Switzerland's next bullet caught him in the hamstring, and he spun then crashed into the wall. Austria patted his hands over it as he hopped away frantically. He was nearly blinded by the adrenaline from the fear of the next shot. He sobbed through the burning blood on his face, his tears racing through the globs on his cheeks. His fingernails scratched at the wallpaper, trying to push him forward every precious centimetre away.

Switzerland tore him from the wall and slammed him to the ground. Austria's eyes wavered as Switzerland crawled over him, pinning him to the floor. Austria's eyes pleaded at the same time his mouth did.

"Please don't, please, please, please…"

Switzerland's eyes did not shine oddly like Germany's. Austria's heart throbbed.

 _Your eyes are normal._

Switzerland put his knees down on Austria's arms so that they could not move. Austria looked up in terror at the sort of demon that was above him, who had horrible wings cast from rifles.

Switzerland did not answer him. It was as though he was not heard, but Austria knew that he could understand him. He had heard that Russia had responded when threatened back when he had been crazed.

"You hear me, Switzerland!" Austria sobbed. "So please don't do this!"

Switzerland set the muzzle of the gun against his forehead and met his eyes. He uttered in a frigid voice to him, "I hear you."

Austria writhed under the too gentle, too calm touch of the gun. He cried, "Switzerland! No! Stop!"

Fangs snagged the back of Switzerland's throat, and this time he yelped. Blackie yanked Switzerland off Austria then slammed his paws down on his head and throat. Blackie let out a devilish snarl and his teeth gnashed in front of his face. Switzerland's face wrinkled and he shouted as he fought to fend off the dog. Austria hurriedly got to his feet and fled while Switzerland's view was blocked.

Austria limped into his room while holding his bleeding leg, trying not to leave a path behind him. He ignored his bed and squeezed himself under his dresser. It took a lot of effort, and he was even amazed at this time that he had been able to do it. Austria had shifted the boxes that had been in the way, and now he slid them in front of him. Austria curled into the smallest ball he could become, and he adjusted the boxes around him until not a piece of him could be seen.

Austria heard a pained bark, then silence. Austria covered his mouth and trembled.

" _Austria_!" came a spitting, bellicose yell.

He snapped his eyes open and stared at cardboard.

"Come out here and face me!"

Fresh tears streamed down his face. The shrieks from Switzerland terrified him; they were so ferociously bloodthirsty. This was not Switzerland. These words were all wrong, the tone was so foreign that it felt supernatural. It was like Switzerland was possessed, which was something that could easily be believed by Austria at this point, after having seen a rage like no other dominating Switzerland's eyes.

"Show yourself or I'll kill this dog!"

Austria cried harder, little whines escaping him despite the need to be quiet.

"I won't shoot you!" Switzerland called. "We can fight hand-to-hand if you want to!"

Austria knew that it was a trap. If he showed himself or made a loud enough sound, Switzerland would shoot him on sight. He tightened his ball and held himself.

"Can you hear the dog? I can blow out its brains. You're not coming? Well then, maybe you'll get my point on the next one."

Austria thought, _Switzerland would never say these things. This isn't him. He isn't like this! He doesn't ever sound like this!_

The cries of sirens approached, soft for now, but surely growing louder. Austria's heart picked up. Help was arriving at last. Switzerland's cries ended, and Austria heard the clanging of his weapons as he sprinted away.

 _He's making a run for it_ , his mind sighed tiredly. _He'll try to escape like Sweden did._

The sirens came up to his house. Now, Austria slid away the boxes and dragged himself out, his back scraping under the wood of the dresser. Austria lay on the floor in his bedroom, listening to the boots that soon were inside his house, and listening to the voices exclaiming as they found the bodies.

Before he was found, Austria was struck with a new horror. He crawled towards a neat bag by his bed, where his cellphone was sure to be inside. Austria sweat as he unlocked the phone and left a smudge of his and Hungary's blood across the screen. He tapped in a number, then placed the phone against his head.

The rings kept coming. Austria's fear rose and it swept over him in a wave once the voice mail came on. He had nearly passed out as the weight of all the events struck him at once. Gloved hands eventually found him as he lay there staring at his phone, letting it ring again and hoping that his call would be answered this time. Once the police had arrived however, the phone was left behind as Austria was taken from his house.

They tried to question him, but Austria was silent and inconsolable. He was taken to the ambulance, and a shock blanket that he did not feel was draped over him. He let his body be moved in whatever way others wanted while he stared forward at nothing.

There was only one thing he could think of right now. It was that last name that was stuck in his mind, sung mournfully over and over again.

 _Liechtenstein._


	5. Chapter 5

Liechtenstein smiled over the basket she had prepared. It was closed, neat, and ready, full of sandwiches and goodies. With all of her heart, she hoped that all the work she had put into it would make her brother happy. She always felt lightness inside whenever she had succeeded in the slightest to make his day better, whenever she got a smile out of him.

She grabbed it by the handle then headed outside with a gleeful skip in her step. She pranced over the lawn to where her brother stood with his back to her and a rifle in his arms. She did not stop even as he cocked the rifle.

He was just aiming it upon the next standing bottle he had placed far away when he heard her cry out, "Big brother! Look what I have for you!"

Switzerland gasped and whirled around. His eyebrows instantly furrowed and he cried, "Liechtenstein, what did I tell you about going outside?"

She froze, startled by the raised tone he had used on her. She squeezed her arms to her sides as though to be a smaller target, and whimpered, "I'm sorry, I just…"

Switzerland frowned and regret filled his eyes for having had been harsh to her.

"I'm sorry for yelling." He let the rifle hang slack against him on its strap as he sighed. "I am just so worried for you. It's not safe, alright?"

"Don't worry, I understand." She looked up at him with large, shining eyes. "I won't do it again."

"Someone might get you if I'm not around," he told her, making sure to talk more softly now. "Today's fine, because I am here and I have this weapon, but I want you to remember. I will protect you."

She nodded. Switzerland's face changed, and he asked kindly, "Now, what do you have in the basket?"

She blushed then handed it over to him. Switzerland inhaled, becoming embarrassed. He opened it then pulled the blanket out of the way to see everything she had prepared.

"It looks very nice, Liechtenstein," he said.

"You like it?" Her eyes glimmered as she put her hands together.

"I do." Switzerland smiled back at her, then looked around them. "But did you want to eat outside?"

"I wanted to get some air…" she admitted. "But…"

"Okay. I'll take a few guns out first to be safe. Follow me."

She kept close to his side as she knew he wanted. Switzerland looked over her often to scan their surroundings for any approaching forms. He got out extra weapons then went inside with her to get the drinks she had forgotten in her excitement to show him the basket.

"Alright, but we're staying close to the house," Switzerland announced as they walked back outside. "You have your phone?"

"Okay, and yeah, I have it."

He threw the blanket over the grass that was a few metres away from the front door. They settled down and he took everything out from the basket to get a better look at everything.

"Some of them are different," Liechtenstein told him as he handled the sandwiches.

He listened as she showed him the kinds she had made. He then chose the most interesting one, and when she was soon praised, she smiled the pure, innocent smile that he liked to see on her face.

They watched a duo of birds flit through the sky, before their eyes fell upon movement lower to the ground. Switzerland dropped everything and raised the rifle instantly, but then lowered it when he recognized his three goats ambling around, nibbling the grass. He set the gun down with a long sigh.

"I don't like this," he huffed. "Always having to watch for danger and having all these scares. What's worse is that Sweden's been on the loose for two days. I had a dream last night he showed up here, I'm so worried."

Liechtenstein did not know what to say. He was right to be worried, in order to keep sharp, although she wished that he needed not be stressed.

They tried chatting about something unrelated, and they finished their meal peacefully. They packed up together, and once inside, Switzerland started washing the dishes.

"Thank you," Liechtenstein piped up.

Switzerland replied, "I don't know why you're thanking me. You made everything, so this is only the right thing to do."

"Should I dry?" she asked.

"Don't worry about it," he replied.

Liechtenstein watched him until she thought that she might be making him uncomfortable, so she then left the room. Alone in the kitchen, Switzerland scrubbed, rinsed, and dried everything in turn. He opened the cupboards and put everything away once it was done, but over the clatter of the dishes, he became worried about the silence in the other room.

"Everything alright, Liechtenstein?" he called.

"Yes, everything's fine!" she exclaimed.

Liechtenstein immediately felt guilt, knowing that she had concerned him. With a sigh, she slid up to the window and peeked through the slit between the curtains. She saw the goats far away, roaming together as though on a quest. She giggled at the thought of the goats on an adventure. She stopped when she saw them all halt to raise their heads and open their mouths. She knew they were calling although she could not hear them, at something coming.

Switzerland was startled when he heard Liechtenstein gasp, "Big brother, someone's coming over here!"

He swept into the room, an arm chopping the air as he hollered, "Get away from the window!"

She jumped away as he raced forward with a gun. He prowled past her and took a peek outside. There was a man approaching their house, dressed in a business-like suit and carrying a clipboard and a briefcase. Switzerland made a sort of growling sound before he dropped his shoulders and muttered, "A guy trying to sell pointless things."

Switzerland yanked back the curtains and threw open the window. Wind rushed over them instantly, blowing their hair and causing the curtains to flutter slowly at their sides. The rifle was visible, held warningly in his hands but not aimed at the man. Switzerland stood tall with Liechtenstein mostly shielded behind him, and he shouted out, "Hey! I don't want whatever you have!"

The man continued to walk forward, calling out in a grandiose voice, "But you don't understand! I'm not selling anything! I am merely conducting a survey!"

"Well, take that survey somewhere else!" Switzerland retorted. "Get off my property!"

"What's the need for being so rude?" The man dramatically swooned as though hurt by Switzerland's words. "It'll only take a minute!"

Switzerland saw him unlock the briefcase. He yelled back, "Go away! You're already beginning to irritate me!"

The man exclaimed, "Cruel, you are!" He spun around in a circle, and while his back was to Switzerland, his briefcase popped open. Papers fluttered out and Switzerland heard him gasp. The man dropped his clipboard, snapped the briefcase closed, then scurried after the sheets of paper.

Switzerland groaned as he watched the man jogging closer after a sheet being blown by the breeze. He wanted to just point his gun at him and scare the man off, but this was only one of his citizens, based on his Swiss-German. He did not wish to be too harsh and concern Liechtenstein, who was watching from just behind him.

The man caught all his sheets, knelt, and opened his case. Switzerland saw his arms moving as he stuffed everything back into the briefcase he had placed on the ground out of his sight.

"Come on," Switzerland huffed, "don't take your time!"

"Oh, so cruel!" the man cried again before he spun on his heels and shot out a small tranquilizer gun. Switzerland threw up his gun in a flash, but a dart caught him in the face and he fell back from the window with a cry of pain.

Liechtenstein cried out and dropped to her knees beside Switzerland. He exhaled and tried to get up to fire a shot out the window, but his movements began to slow. Switzerland swayed then collapsed unconscious on the ground. Liechtenstein crawled over to him and ripped the dart from his face in a panic, although it was by far too late. Blood leaked out slowly from the little hole in his cheek, but Switzerland lay still with his eyes closed and his mouth agape.

"No, no, you can't be unconscious!" she whimpered. She peeked her head up, and she saw the man outside staring at the window while talking on his cellphone. He raised the gun again, and she squeaked before diving under the ledge.

Fear overwhelmed her. The one she had believed would protect her was unresponsive on the floor, and now she was alone to defend them both. She tried lifting Switzerland up to pull off the strap his rifle was attached to, but then she stiffened when she heard the roar of multiple approaching engines.

She grabbed Switzerland and starting dragging his unconscious form across the floor. Wheels were heard tearing across the grass, coming up so close so fast that she feared that vehicles were going to crash into the house. Liechtenstein tried removing the gun again, but was interrupted when the door came down with a booming crack.

Liechtenstein shrieked when people leapt into the room, each clad entirely in black and wearing skull masks. One of them pointed a gun at her, and she tore around the corner for cover. Footsteps pounded close and she stumbled backwards as the strangers came into sight, gathering around Switzerland.

They ignored her as each grabbed a hold of his limp body then promptly lifted him up off the floor. They hurried outside together, and Liechtenstein hopped around the corner and stared in horror as they took him outside.

"No!" she wailed. "Leave him alone!"

Powerful emotions overcame her that were so foreign. She bolted to the kitchen and found herself the largest knife they owned before racing out through the open door.

On the lawn, other black-clothed people all wearing identical masks were over Switzerland. He had been laid on his stomach, and already a scapula was slicing neatly down the base of Switzerland's skull and down his nape.

"Stop!" Liechtenstein screeched, charging at them her knife raised.

Something was shouted in a language she did not understand. It was familiar however; Germanic. Liechtenstein could not identify it at the moment as her brain rushed with desperate fear and the alien emotion of anger. In the moment after it had been said however, the man in the suit leapt up from behind the crowd of masked people and shot her with the tranquilizer gun.

It hit her in the chest, and she dropped the knife with a yelp. Her hands went up and tugged the dart out of her, but again, her hopes were vain. In the seconds that went by, her senses blurred and she found herself losing control of her limbs. She fell over and hit the ground, and as she lay there, black boots drew near until two grinning skull faces were bent over her.

She looked past them and saw bizarre technology in one of the gloved hands by Switzerland. It was small and had wires, but as she regarded it, her vision darkened until the scene in front of her disappeared. The last thing she heard were voices conversing in that unidentified language, then everything gradually became nothing.

* * *

Liechtenstein woke up, groggy and confused. She automatically attempted to move but found herself unable to. Her mind sharpened as the effects wore off, and when she looked down, she found that her legs had been bound to a chair. She yanked against the ropes cutting into her wrists and middle, hardly able to shift because of the tightness of them.

She looked around herself with huge eyes. There was no one there, and she was alone in the living room. She looked down to the floor, remembering in a flash that she had just been there, trying to wake up her unconscious brother.

 _They were converting him into one of them!_

There was no denying it. She knew that it had been what they were doing to him. They had cut him, likely drilling something into him while she had been out of it. She knew that whatever they had put into him was going to change him into the monsters that Germany, Russia, and Sweden had become.

 _But they did not do that to me. They didn't even kill me, although they could have. Why…?_

Footsteps softly crept across the carpet. Liechtenstein was about to call out for help, but then she held her tongue. She started to realize that perhaps she did not want to be found. However, the footsteps came anyway, and she gasped when Switzerland entered the room.

She had known in a heartbeat that something was wrong with him. Switzerland's eyes had lost every ounce of its usual caring glow. He looked at her and when their eyes met, she saw an unnatural anger coursing through them. He muttered strange words that were too quiet for her to hear, and he rocked back and forth in indecision about whether or not to dive at her.

"Switzerland…" she whispered.

He stepped closer to her, his face scrunched up in raw rage. Liechtenstein was horrified by the expression he presented to her, and she trembled against her binds.

"Big brother… please don't hurt me." Her whisper had turned into a whimper as he came closer.

He bared his teeth but said nothing. He came up to her and took her throat into his hands. He did not hesitate; he immediately squeezed in with unrestricted strength.

Liechtenstein's eyebrows lifted and she widened her mouth while emitting high choking sounds. He pressed in harder until she could not produce any more sounds and could only twitch under his grasp. He glared at her with flickering eyelids and no mercy in his gaze- a gaze Liechtenstein noticed was not abnormally shiny, indicating that these were indeed his real eyes and that they had not been taken.

Her vision became smudged again as though another tranquilizer dart had hit her. She knew the difference however, and she began to cry because of it.

Then a whisper, gentle, oddly caring.

"Stop crying, Liechtenstein."

She only cried harder as the hands tightened their grips, but now Switzerland had also begun to cry. He blinked, the uncharacteristic rage fading from his eyes, and he looked at her as though he was seeing her for the first time. He beheld her, silent and staring at him in hurt fear. His hands slipped off her throat and smacked limply against his legs.

Switzerland stepped back and put his hands over the back of his skull. He looked forward at Liechtenstein in horror and he mewled in a teary voice, "What am I doing? What is happening?"

He sprang forward to get around the chair and start untying the ropes. Liechtenstein heard from behind her his urgent voice rushing, "Get away from me, Liechtenstein. You have to run no matter what I say or do!"

The ropes slid away and she stood up, casting a terrified glance behind herself at him.

"Why?" she choked.

"I… I…" He focused on her again, shook his head, then gasped, "I can't control my emotions and I hear… things… please, go, _now_!"

He shoved her just a little too hard towards the front door. She looked back again and caught him staring at her oddly and muttering, before he grabbed his head and sob-murmured in disagreement. She sprinted out of the house, racing across the lawn and now just realizing one of the words she had heard him muttering.

 _The end._

 _The end?_ she thought. _Why is he saying that? Is someone saying that in his mind?_

She ran onwards. She departed the yard that was now empty of cars and masked people, trying to put as much distance between herself and the house. She looked back constantly, until on one of those occasions she spotted Switzerland exiting the house with his body decked out in weapons. Liechtenstein knew that she had been seen, for he burst into pursuit, sprinting after her over the hills.

She did not have a phone on her, and when she saw Switzerland engage in the hunt, she knew she had to hide. She would not have been able to outrun him, so instead she immersed herself into a forest where the trees could cover her while she randomly took winding paths. Liechtenstein did not see if Switzerland had entered the forest after her or not, but she concentrated on changing paths often so that hopefully he would lose her.

She did not stop running for a long time even though her lungs protested against it. She was not used to running so fast and for so long; a joyful skip was more like her. She had grown used to a safe, happy life with Switzerland, never needing to flee for her life. Now she did her best to carry her small body away deeper and deeper into the forest.

Liechtenstein had repeatedly been looking behind herself, terrified that the thunder of footsteps on the ground belonged not only to her. When she collapsed in exhaustion, the sounds discontinued and silence swirled all around her. She forced herself up to at least stumble into the bushes to the side of the path to hide under. She slid herself across the dirt and leaves, forgetting about the previous tidiness of her dress.

 _He's gone now_ … she thought. _He's not going to stop himself this time. He's not going to be able to. He is like the others now; he wants to kill every nation he can find._

Liechtenstein weighed her options. She could not return to the house, but she had to go move in with someone else. She knew that as of that moment only she was aware that Switzerland had turned. If he gave up on her, he would go on searching for others to attack. She cringed as she feared that he would beat her to one of the closest nations: France, Italy, or Austria.

 _I have to get myself out of here and find a phone,_ she decided _. I have to alert everyone that it's not just Sweden anymore!_

She waited under the bush for an hour before she felt that it was safe to come out. She did not think Switzerland would be around anymore, and would have gone off trying to find another target. Liechtenstein began to walk back down the trail she had came, but soon found that it arrived to a fork. She had run for a long time in fear from Switzerland, likely half an hour and covering several kilometres. In her desperation to get out of sight from the guns, she had not paid attention to the random turns she had taken.

 _I think I came from this way_ , she thought, although she began to feel warm from the creeping adrenaline. Never had she been so far out in this forest before. She knew that if she was near enough to the house, she would recognize the paths, but as of now nothing was familiar.

Liechtenstein did not notice how the paths curved slowly, making her change direction over time without her ever realizing it until an hour had passed and she still recognized nothing.

Liechtenstein tried to check the sun, but it was stuck high in the sky and she did not remember where it would be in correlation to the house. Liechtenstein thought that surely she was going the wrong way again, and she tried doubling back, but this only resulted in her becoming more lost. Sometimes she went down ways that had seemed like paths, but were only areas where the trees were not so densely packed together. Deer trails as well were taken mistakenly, and Liechtenstein only went deeper into the forest.

"This is not good," she whined to herself. "Oh, I have to warn them before it's too late, but I'm stuck here!"

She wished that she had not been scared out the door.

 _If only I had quickly grabbed a phone first!_

Liechtenstein was certain that she would have had the time. Switzerland, she believed, could have controlled himself for those extra seconds, even if the phone was practically right beside him on the mantel.

 _He wouldn't have grabbed me again if I came near him_ … She trusted her adoptive brother. He cared about her a lot, if the tears he had shed while losing control had proven anything.

Trying to be logical, she told herself, "I can't trust him now," before attempting to work her way out of the new predicament she had put herself into.

"This isn't the way, so then…" she said these things often to try and keep her confidence.

At points, she became sidetracked by the fresh memories of just hours ago. She remembered the skull faces over her, those emotionless faces of death. Liechtenstein shivered as she recalled Switzerland's flesh being sliced open and the well of blood that slipped out from him. One of the devices she had seen struck her with fear as she realized that it was now inside him, controlling his emotions and convincing him to do terrible deeds.

Then lastly, she remembered the bark of words from a foreign language that occurred when she had been spotted. Now alone in silence and feeling far from the danger that Switzerland had become, she thought about those words.

 _I know that pronunciation_ , she realized.

* * *

The days that had followed the incident in Switzerland had been rough for Liechtenstein. She made it out of the forest eventually, stumbling into a village covered in dirt and sap, absolutely famished. She had managed when it rained one time, licking the water off leaves, but she had not dared experiment with the berries and plants she had found on the trails. Kind people had wanted to help her once they had found her and learned who she was, but she asked for a phone before anything else.

She called Austria first, and was startled when nobody answered. Trying to swallow her worry, she assumed that he must be out with Hungary buying groceries. She called Italy, and he answered. She told him everything, found out that he was safe, then she called France and found out the same news.

Liechtenstein kept trying to call Austria and even Hungary's cell phones throughout the afternoon until it was almost evening. She accepted the food and clothes she was given by a family that had taken her in, and she as well took a shower to clean herself up. However, the worry increased, and she could not stay there. She desperately wanted to know what had happened and so she asked for a ride. The family stared at her in surprise, but then she explained the severity of the situation to them. She told them that she thought something bad happened to her friends and she wanted to know if they were alright.

They agreed to take her to Austria. The mother had time off, and so she was free to complete the favour. She drove Liechtenstein the entire distance to the house, and when they had reached their destination, it was late in the night.

The car pulled up slowly to the house. The glare of the headlights glowed off police tape that surrounded the property, and upon sight of them, Liechtenstein was paralyzed with horror.

"Oh no," Liechtenstein whimpered. "I was too late!"

The mother stared at the scene with her, sorrowfully keeping her mouth closed while wishing she could help in some way.

Liechtenstein stepped out of the car, but the mother ran out and dove in front of her before she could duck under the tape.

"You can't go in there!" she gasped. "And even if you could, there's nothing you can do!"

"I want to know if everyone's okay!" Liechtenstein cracked in an instant and broke out into tears. "I want to know what happened to my brother an-and…"

The Swiss approached and brought her into a hug. She whispered to her, "I'm sorry, oh, I am so sorry. But no matter what happened, they won't be here."

"Where would they be?" Liechtenstein sobbed.

"They… might be at a hospital. We can see if they are there."

"Please," Liechtenstein whimpered.

They got into the car, and the woman consulted her GPS to find where the nearest hospital was. They then drove there in silence, with only Liechtenstein crying softly while looking out the window. She hoped with all of her might that Austria and Hungary would be safe in a hospital, injured perhaps, but in good hands. She hoped that she would hear news that Switzerland had been caught by the police. The mother wished that her passenger's friends would be alive as well, for both were holding onto the flame of hope that they still had in this time of ignorance.

When they had parked, they both hurried inside. Liechtenstein came up to the desk crying, and the concerned staff member professionally asked if he could help her.

"Please," she sniffed. "Is Austria here? Hungary?"

He raised his brows, then remembered a fact.

"Oh, you mean the person. Yes, he is here. But we don't have Hungary."

"Let me visit him," Liechtenstein begged. "It's an emergency!"

"Visiting hours are over… but you're one of them, aren't you?"

She nodded.

"Okay, I suppose an exception can be made. He might be sleeping though, mind you," he told her before finding the room number for her.

The woman hesitated. She asked Liechtenstein, "Should I go?"

Liechtenstein paused, then replied, "I… think I'll be alright now. Th-Thank you though, for everything. I am very grateful."

The woman left, although her heart was heavy as she came to understand what it meant when one of the people Liechtenstein had asked for was said not to be present here at the hospital when the other was. Liechtenstein knew this in her heart as well, but would not believe it because she was not mentally prepared to release her grasp from hope.

Liechtenstein took the elevator that went too painfully slow upwards. She was convinced several times that it was going to get struck, trapping her inside and keeping her from Austria. It behaved normally however, and when the doors slid open, she burst out and ran to the room, paying no mind to whomever she would be disturbing.

She slowed as she came up to her destination, her heart seeming to pound in her ears. She peeked around the doorway and found the lights off and darkness inside. She stepped in on shaking legs, terrified for the news she was about to receive. In the room, with her feet soundlessly padding on the polished floor, she found that there was still light. The curtains to the window had been drawn, and the glow of the city leaked into the room as well as some light from the hall. Liechtenstein saw that there was only one figure in the room, alone by the window and sitting up awake with his head a black silhouette against the backdrop of stars. She saw the outline of a familiar hair curl, and she whispered, "Austria?"

The shadow on the bed jumped with a gasp. Liechtenstein hurried to him, where she could see him clearer. Once close however, she saw that he was shivering in fear and his eyes were circles. He was on the verge of screaming, so she said gently to him, "Mr. Austria, it's me."

She touched his quivering arm. Austria exhaled and leaned into her.

"You are really here, aren't you?" Austria asked in a wispy voice. "I'm not just imagining this?"

She sat on the bed to be closer to him, at the same time replying, "I am here."

Austria slid up next to her and wrapped his arms around her, carefully squeezing. Liechtenstein was surprised that he of all people was hugging her, but she was even more surprised when he started to cry.

"I-I thought you were dead," he wept. "I thought he k-killed you, Liechtenstein…"

He quivered from his jolting, small sobs. Liechtenstein slipped her hands onto his back, caressing it softly while she whispered, "What happened?"

Austria choked out, "He-he killed them. Kugelmugel and H-Hungary… I thought you were dead too! That I had lost everyone close t-to me… Germany, Prussia, Hungary, Kugelmugel, Switzerland… but you're okay. You're _alive_ …"

Liechtenstein began to cry as well when she learned of the deaths. Austria did not want her crying as well, and he tried to calm his breathing to murmur to her, "I tried to call you."

She sniffed, "I tried to call you too."

Austria continued to hold her, looking down over her and feeling a weak relief that he had not been left completely alone.

"I don't know what to do," Austria told her quietly. "I think Switzerland escaped, and I don't want to go home… not after what happened. I am also... so sc-scared to be here. I thought you were Switzerland because of your hair, and that you came to get me in the hospital like Germany d-did to Italy..."

"We need to stay with someone," Liechtenstein said. "To protect each other."

"Yes," Austria's voice wavered. "I don't want to be left alone."

"We should go to France," she whispered. "He will help us, won't he?"

"I think so..."

"Switzerland might go there next," Liechtenstein added. "We can help him too. Italy's not alone but… France is."

Austria's home was gone to him; he needed a new one, and France was no stranger. As everyone important dropped out from his life, Austria knew that France was one of those remaining that he cared about. He, France, and Liechtenstein could survive together, until the end of the madness came. Austria could piece together these two and try to scrape together a new home to cope with the loss that was tearing him apart.

Austria's nod confirmed the decision.

"Oh!" Liechtenstein exclaimed. "Austria, I saw so much. The people… and what they did to my brother… I know what's wrong with everybody! There was a group in black with skull masks, and many of them. They put things in Switzerland's head and neck- _technology_ … and I heard them speaking Dutch!"


	6. Chapter 6

Water sprinkled gently onto the soil in the pot. Netherlands watched carefully to make sure just the right amount of water was given before he stepped back and regarded the tulips. They were healthy and budding now, but not yet ready to bloom. It was the late summer, yet he had used the bulbs he had stored so that they would brighten his house even after all those outside had died.

"Those are looking great."

Netherlands turned and looked at his soldier guard, the one who had spoken.

"That is because I know how to take care of them," he replied bluntly.

He put away his watering can and cleaned around the pot. Here was one of the only spots he allowed dirt to be in his house, where it was contained so that not a speck of that soil ruined the shining glory that was his floor. Netherlands was satisfied by the perfect cleanliness of his home and that his soldier had learned not to touch and dirty his things.

Netherlands believed that his soldier was bored, for once again he was tapping his foot and staring expectantly at him. Netherlands sighed and turned to him. He did not need to say anything, for soon the soldier was asking, "Do you have any plans today?"

"Nothing special," Netherlands responded.

"I see."

There was a sudden, hefty knock on the door. The soldier stepped out in front of Netherlands and answered it. They met more than one police officer standing out there, stern-faced and glaring past the soldier.

"Bring him out," one of the cops ordered with an aggressive thrust of his head towards Netherlands.

The soldier backed away as Netherlands stormed past him and faced the officer who had spoken.

"Why are you here?" he demanded.

The cop responded, "Netherlands, you are under arrest. Come willingly with us."

He gawked.

" _What_?"

His face twitched and a flame of outrage ignited in his eyes. The officers warningly placed their hands on the pistols in their belts while taking a preparatory step backwards and fixing him with cold gazes. Netherlands' eyes widened at this display. His right leg fell backwards and he growled, "I did nothing. Why are my own people here, turning against me?"

"Those that were witnessed operating on Switzerland were speakers of Dutch. There is a possibility of you having involvement, so you will undergo interrogations and your house will be investigated."

"Switzerland? That attack happened _yesterday_. You can't honestly believe that I could have been there and have gotten back in time!"

"He was changed four days ago."

Netherlands' eyes narrowed. The officer that had adopted the speaker's role commanded, "Step out of the house and put your hands behind your back."

Netherlands frowned as he left his house and slipped his hands behind his lower back. He turned, and one of the cops neatly slapped the cuffs tightly around his wrists. Netherlands lifted his head and saw his soldier guard wavering side-to-side in nervous insecurity, unsure of what to do.

"Take care of my rabbit," Netherlands told him. "And water all the flowers."

They began to walk him across his property, one of them stating his rights. Netherlands lowered his head and shifted his sharp gaze from left-to-right, looking to the extra officers that followed alongside the two holding him. The glares were gone now, and instead they stared at him with unconcealed content on their faces. Netherlands felt a hook of burning anger sear his heart, and he thought, _They are happy that I am being arrested! How dare they? I am their nation!_

He felt the frustration grow as this thought scorched his mind while rough hands held his arms and metal cut painfully into his wrists. He exclaimed, "What is this? The words of one person, and you blame me for genocide? I have nothing to do with this!"

"This will be discussed in the interrogation."

"I did not do this!" he barked. "This is unnecessary!"

They ignored him. Netherlands glanced to his sides again and saw them shaking their heads with unsympathetic smirks.

"Why do you believe I did this?" He dug in his feet as they tried to force him into the back of the vehicle. They did not answer, only cramming him inside then slamming the door. Netherlands kicked at the door once in grievance, then jumped when the mood changed. He was screamed at by officer for attacking property, and Netherlands sat up stiffly as a flinching reaction.

Two hopped into the front, and the driver who had yelled glared at him in the mirror.

"You should not hate me because of a rumor," Netherlands decided to speak up again. "Think about everything else. I have been here with my guard the entire time. I completed work, and I can show it for evidence. I have many alibis."

They kept silent again.

"I'm not the only nation that speaks Dutch!" he snapped. "And even if those people come from here, there is no proof that I am correlated with them!"

"Save it for the interrogation," the cop on the passenger side retorted.

Netherlands sat forward, petrified for a few moments, his mouth still open to defend himself and the hairs on his back tingling. He flushed with heat, and he closed his mouth finally.

 _So_ this _is how it's going to be._

* * *

He grew to loathe the expression _I don't know anything_ after having had repeated it far too many times. Hours of interrogation, and they were dissatisfied that they had not wheedled a confession out of him. They seemed furious for it in fact, their brittle patience not just snapped but had been ground into fine grains. For his repetition in defense of his innocence, they sighed as though tired of his resistance, and in their eyes Netherlands saw their true emotions. They did not yell in order to keep their professionalism but they still spoke in a way that was demeaning to him.

They would try again tomorrow. Netherlands was alone in a cell, sitting on the bed, his eyes boring into the wall. The questions were locked in his head, and every time he recalled them, outrage blossomed. He remembered every minute of how he felt being threatened and mistreated, because _innocent until proven guilty_ had just not existed for his case.

" _Where are Sweden and Switzerland_?"

Netherlands had heard this asked many times. These two were on the loose, disappeared completely under the radar, and they assumed that he was housing Sweden and was aware of where Switzerland was heading.

He had said, " _I don't know where they are. I have no part in this_."

" _Those who attacked Switzerland were speaking Dutch_."

Netherlands had replied, " _I am not the only one who speaks Dutch_."

" _Do you blame this on Belgium_?"

" _No. I mean they may be my citizens, but I know nothing about an organization_."

" _An organization?_ " the interrogator had echoed. " _No one said anything about an organization_."

Netherlands responded, " _I only assumed this, as it was a group with technology that attacked Switzerland. That sounds rather organized_."

" _I think you made a slip_."

" _No, I-_ "

Netherlands seethed and shook away the memory. Here he was, behind bars like Germany and Russia, because he was assumed to be just like them.

 _They have nothing on me!_

One lead that went in his direction, and now he had lost the trust of his people.

 _I won't be staying here_ , his mind growled determinedly. _I have a lot of things to take care of_.

* * *

Russia replayed yesterday's talk through his mind. It had happened on the same day of Netherlands' apprehension, unbeknownst to him, and the day of the night Liechtenstein had found Austria. His boss had come in to tell him news of importance.

" _Alright, Russia, we know what is wrong with you_."

Russia had leapt up from off the bed in excitement at his boss's voice.

" _You do?_ " he had gasped. " _What is it?_ "

" _Something in the back of your head, neck, and likely spine. We will take you to undergo surgery tomorrow. You will not eat until then_."

Now that day had come, and the hunger ripping his stomach did nothing to grate his excitement. Even when his boss entered surrounded by soldiers and police officers, he did not become offended. Russia waited by the front of his cell, and when it was unlocked by the guard, he turned and gladly accepted his handcuffs.

As he was escorted out, he inhaled deeply as jittery joy overwhelmed him. He was finally out from that cell after being there for over two weeks with nothing to do but exercise to pass the time. When the doors opened, air rushed over his face, warm and welcoming. It was still summer; he was glad that he did not have to miss it. He hopped easily into the back of the cruiser to be locked in, although back here he no longer felt imprisoned.

 _I'll be better soon!_ his mind cried in rapture.

Russia was taken to the hospital where the staff that would take care of him were already ready. He plopped himself down in the room and watched the anesthesiologist ecstatically as he checked his blood pressure, heart rate, and his oxygen levels. He listened when he was spoken to, as he was informed of the procedure. He was not worried and did not require the consolation, but only thought, _Yes!_ when he saw the needle approaching his flesh.

He hardly had time to revel after the liquid swam through him. He lost consciousness in the snap of one's fingers, then soon the world had returned in a crystal-sharp format through his false eye.

Russia was comfortable lying down in the recovery room. He stared around himself in confusion, forgetting where he was for a while until reality caught up to him. Russia blinked as he checked out the two soldiers and one police officer that stood nearby and… _my boss?_

Russia tried to speak, but found his throat incredibly sore and dry. He tried to swallow spit to moisten it before he tried again. His boss cut him off however, asking, "You are awake now?"

Russia nodded although he still felt woozy.

"Russia, listen. The surgery had some… complications."

He paused to make sure Russia understood. As prompted, Russia replied worriedly, "What do you mean?"

"There was a lot more in you than previously thought. There were things that were even attached to your spinal cord. Chemicals, technology, wires… as I said, it's complicated. The important part is that if anything is tampered with, if we try to remove it or turn it off in some way, toxins will flow into your body and you will die."

"What?" Russia yelped. "So-"

"Everything is still inside you."

Russia gulped, "What are we going to do about this?"

"Some of the toxins entered your bloodstream during the surgery, and it was noticed when your vital signs changed," was the reply. "So we need a different kind of people to deal with this, to figure out how to operate, or at least how to remove the container of toxins waiting inside you."

Russia was overcome by shock. There was a tempting urge to cry from the stress, with having a mind-controlling device inside him and potential poison- but he would not do it in front of his boss.

Russia was told, "These men will take you back to your cell until we figure something else out."

Russia dumbly nodded and barely saw his boss leaving. He stayed there for a while longer on the bed, until he was urged up and put into handcuffs once more. He walked slowly down the hall with them. They may have thought that he was dizzy from after the surgery, but that was not the truth. Russia felt lost and hopeless, and now conscious of the extra weight in his back that he had earlier believed to be stiffness in his muscles from exercising.

 _Number Two is online._

Russia looked to the soldier at his side.

"What did you say?" he asked.

"What?" The soldier raised a brow. "I didn't say anything."

"Then who…?"

"None of us said a word," the officer replied.

Russia twitched as he looked forward. He was trying to figure out what he had heard meant, before he slowly realized that he did not care. He stopped questioning it. Everything felt like too much effort right then, and he wanted to cease thinking too hard about anything to instead just succumb to his dimming emotions.

 _The end. They all have to die. Remember the mission._

"What did he just say?" a soldier grunted. He turned and looked down to Russia as he muttered lowly under his breath.

" _End them_."

As the three attending to Russia were observing him, screams erupted from the front of the hospital. Seconds later, a blackness that took the forms of people swarmed into the hall and gunfire erupted. A soldier was down before the officer and the other soldier reacted, diving behind the corner with Russia and bearing their arms.

"The hell!" the soldier snarled. "It's those masked terrorists!"

They took turns peeking out from the corner and taking shots at the advancing group. A few crumpled, but the others marched forward and fired back. The cop and soldier drew back out of sight of the eyes staring down the hall at them through the sockets of their skull masks.

 _Get rid of them and escape with the people in masks._

Russia tilted his head and glared at the two who had their backs to him. They were completely occupied by the armed group creeping down towards the corner.

 _Kill them. You want to kill them. Kill them. You have to. Kill them. End them._

Russia booted the soldier. He stumbled out into the hall and splurts of bullets entered him instantly. The soldier dropped down dead metres away from his friend that had already been trampled underfoot. Russia snapped his head to the cop that was wide-eyed and turning his body over to point the pistol at him. Russia kicked him, but he was heavier than the soldier had been so he merely spun and stayed out of the line of fire.

Without a thought, Russia lunged and sank his teeth into his throat. He slammed him against the wall and used his knee to hold the pistol-bearing arm to the side. Blood splurted into his mouth and washed over his tongue, and the man's hard trachea shifted in his mouth. The cop was coughing in pain and shock until a skull face popped around the corner and jammed a shotgun against his side. A single bang, then Russia released the man and let him fall to the ground. The person in black silently searched the cop until he found the key and unlocked Russia's handcuffs.

Russia hurried after the others, elation filling him for his deeds. He felt so satisfied and complete for doing everything he had just done, and for following the masked people on their murder trail, as though it was and always had been the purpose of his life.

They leapt out into a roaring rainstorm. They were struck by the waves that came down from the heavens and Russia's clothes instantly stuck to his frame. They dashed through puddles as they sailed into their idling cars. Russia dove into the shelter from the rain, the shelter that immediately screeched as it took off trying to escape the sirens. The wheels skidded through the water as the car veered, nearly hydroplaning before it swerved and regained control like the others in front and behind it. Russia stared forward disinterested as other cars careened out of the way as the vehicles with black-tinted windows flew by with sirens shrieking behind them in pursuit.

They charged down the busy street and approached a bridge exiting the city. The Moscow River splashed roughly below as its waves were pounded by the rain, and here and there boats scurried about, startled by the sudden onslaught. Over the sound of the car windows being pelted, the chopping of a helicopter was heard as its form rose over the city then zoomed towards them with its front aggressively pointed down.

Russia saw it, and now the voice returned to him.

 _Get out of the car! Get out, get out, get out now!_

Russia felt the absolute need to obey and to not question. Russia unlocked then threw open the door of the speeding vehicle. Russia shot out into the swirl of wind and water and flew over the side of the bridge. He dropped with the rain, putting his legs together as he saw the river below fast approaching. He hardly felt it when the bones in his legs cracked upon contact with the surface; he only struggled with all his strength to swim upwards and return to air.

He gasped when his head burst out, then he paddled against the slow current. His eye patch had fallen off him, and he scanned around himself with the empty socket facing every direction. As wheels and rain rolled and splashed on the road over his head, deafening and slightly echoing, he spotted a cruise boat slowly coming towards him. Russia swam to the side while still hidden under the bridge, staying out of the way until the voice spoke to him.

 _Board it when it passes, then hide._

Russia waited until it went by before he swam after it. He grabbed onto the end then heaved himself onto the deserted back deck. He flopped onto it with a wet smack before heading unnoticed to a restroom. He locked the door once inside then leaned against the wall, doing nothing while water dripped from his clothes and hair. He exhaled out past blood-stained teeth, then his legs gave out and he collapsed into the puddle of water on the floor that he had created. Russia put down the toilet seat then got up and sat on it to stretch out his injured legs.

 _Stay where you are._

He did nothing but obey this command until a new one would be given. His mind had become practically vacant at this point, so there was nothing else for him to do but accept what filled the void.

* * *

Germany heard about it all. He was in his cell when someone rushed in on a beeline for his boss.

"Russia has escaped!" he gasped out loud enough for Germany to hear. "The terrorists showed up and Russia went mad! He turned against his guards and ran with them!"

"What?" his boss cried.

"A cop told the police right before he died! Russia killed one guy then bit the cop in the throat. Just like that- normal one moment then completely savage in the next!"

"What of the surgery?"

The reply was, "I don't know…"

"It must have been a failure," Germany's boss muttered. "I want to know why."

Everyone in the room except for a single guard left him alone, who ignored him anyway as he texted something on his phone. Germany grasped the bars tightly in stress, his muscles bulging from the strain. Wide-eyed, he thought, _They couldn't fix him! Why not? I can't be fixed? No! I don't want to be like this. I cannot become like Russia… I don't want to kill people!_

The news of what he had done in the time he could not remember haunted him. Germany's heart felt stabbed as he thought about his departed brother. An influx of tears spilled through his net of eyelashes and they raced down each side of his face.

 _Not again. Please, no… I don't want to be controlled to murder those I care about…! Italy- I might kill him this time! Like I killed Prussia!_

"No!" Germany cried. "Help me! Please! I don't want to hurt anybody again! Take it out! Now, _please_!"

"Calm down," the guard soothed him. "It will be alright."

"Help me…" Germany bent his head. "Take it out of me."

"Five minutes, Sir. Give me five minutes; it's almost one o'clock."

At first he felt relieved, but then the specific time concerned him.

"Five minutes?" he asked. "Until what?"

"We'll take you out of here."

"Will you ask to take me to the hospital?" Germany inquired. "When the others come back?"

"We'll get you fixed, don't worry."

 _Vague_ , Germany thought. _Suspicious. Not really answering my questions_.

The guard checked his phone constantly while occasionally looking to Germany. Germany sat down on his bed and watched the man, waiting for those five minutes to pass.

The soldiers from before returned without his boss. The guard came and unlocked the cell, causing Germany to wonder, _Was he texting them the entire time?_

"Is he on yet?" one of them commented while looking over him from head to toe.

"No," the one who had just been guarding him replied.

Germany cut in, "What?"

"Just a few more seconds. It's 12:59."

"Let's get going," another soldier said.

"What's going on?" Germany backed deeper into his cell whilst glaring at each of them.

A phone was raised, and the guard announced, "Okay, now."

A new voice entered his mind; it did not sound like his conscience, the voice he usually heard when thinking to himself. It was a stranger's, and the voice announced so clearly that he almost mistook it as something spoken, _Number One is online_.

Germany gasped in realization when he saw that no mouths had moved. He was about to cry out in fright and anger, but then his need for fear faded.

 _Follow these soldiers_.

They held onto him and took him away. They passed by officers calmly on their way outside, not triggering any inquiries. They packed Germany into a car with them then drove tranquilly in the direction of the hospital. Once out of sight, they turned and sped away towards a road that would take them out of the city.

When they passed the sign that showed that they had exited the city, the car burst out into whooping. Germany sat between them, blinking mindlessly as they put their arms out the windows and cheered to the sky in German and Dutch. One of them cranked the radio and modern pop blared out from the vehicle as it tore down the highway westwards.

By the time the police found the car, it was parked and abandoned. The soldiers had been picked up by their fellows, and Germany was being transported in the back seat of a typical soccer mom van on the route to the Netherlands.

* * *

"But surely, it couldn't have been me," Netherlands muttered. "I've been here the entire time."

Netherlands had watched the police grow upset and concerned after they heard of first Russia's escape, and then Germany's. Netherlands now decided to slide in his comment during this fresh interrogation. It was not well received. They gawked at him then glared, so he added, "What? How could this be planned if I, the supposed leader, have been under your care the entire time?"

"You may have a second-in-command," he was told.

Netherlands replied, "That is just a guess! There is hardly any evidence connecting me to this crime, and there is something wrong with this forced custody. I am tempted to hire a lawyer for my case, but they are costly. Or do I not have the right to one, seeing as many of my rights are being stripped from me based on the wayward words of a traumatized girl?"

Netherlands felt himself bristling in the subsequent argument that lasted for half an hour. He pushed the fact that he had a soldier watching him at all times- one that he was willing to have replaced if he could not be trusted. His every move could be monitored, and he assured them that the events would only roll on while he stayed at home working under the eyes of his guard. His innocence could be easily proven this way and there would be no point for more inane interrogations.

"I have things to buy and profit to make," he uttered. "This is a waste of my valuable time."

It was agreed in the end that Netherlands would return home under the care of a new soldier guard. One that they hand-chose and trusted. When Netherlands opened his door followed by this soldier, he had to break the news to the other that he would no longer be working for him. He got his few things and said farewell as he left. Immediately after the door was closed, Netherlands lay down the rules regarding the cleanliness of his house, stressing for the kitchen not to be touched when they came near it.

"We will go together to get take-out all the time," he explained.

Netherlands checked out the window and saw his rabbit safe in her hutch beside a filled bowl of food. He looked over his pot of tulips, content that they had been watered recently. Even the floor had been swept and everything else seemed in good shape. Netherlands missed his old guard promptly, not yet sure about the capabilities of this new one he had been given.

"How is your schedule?" the soldier asked nonchalantly.

"No more meetings upcoming… No more _interrogations_."

Netherlands snatched his wallet and keys and waved the soldier to him. They headed outside together, wordlessly acknowledging the time and therefore on their way to buy dinner. After locking the door, they proceeded onto a walk. Netherlands enjoyed stretching his legs and feeling the wind touch his face and half-gelled hair. He did not relax however, instead he scanned around himself sharply with the help of the soldier.

They easily got everything they needed and made it back before sunset. Netherlands dropped his things on the table then went out back with his guard shadowing to the hutch. He opened it, and the soft rabbit hopped towards him. He gathered her into his arms then walked back into the house. He set her on the floor to roam, trusting her to not make a mess and to use her litter box.

Three heavy knocks rapped at the door. Netherlands sighed in frustration, believing the impatient, furious knocks to be the police back for another round. The soldier came up to the door and took a peek to see who it was. Netherlands waited behind the corner with his eyes on his rabbit snuffling across the floor.

"It's a man. I don't know who it is, but he has blonde, wild hair."

"That's Denmark," Netherlands muttered. "Open the door; let's see what he wants."

When the door was opened, the rabbit hopped towards it in curiosity. Netherlands scooped her into his arms before she went too far, then he made an appearance.

" _You_ ," Denmark breathed in trembling rage. He barged into the house, only to walk into the bar of the soldier's arm.

Netherlands hugged his rabbit to his chest, staring down at him and muttering,"What is your business here?"

"You know why I'm here! What the _hell_ are you up to, Netherlands?

"Elaborate."

Denmark spat, "You're funding some kind of organization, aren't you? Creating technology and having it installed in nations so that they will murder others!"

"I am not responsible for this," Netherlands said levelly.

"Those that operated on Switzerland were Dutch," Denmark growled. "I find _that_ hard to deny."

"They might be Dutch," he replied. "But they might be Belgian. They might be Dutch-speaking Swiss."

"It's not Belgium! You're the shady, drug-abusing-"

Netherlands glared, interrupting, "Do not stick your nose where it does not belong."

Denmark pulled back his shoulders and lowered his head, his eyes narrowing and glinting. He hissed more quietly, "Why do you want to kill us?"

Netherlands' eyebrows furrowed as he uttered, "Get out of my house."

Denmark cried this time, "Why do you want to kill us!"

"Get him out," Netherlands told the soldier. "I've had enough of this."

"Shit!" Denmark yelled as he was pushed back outside. "Answer me! Why did Iceland have to _die_ , you tightwad _shit_!"

Netherlands pushed past his soldier to fill the doorway. He glowered at Denmark as he stroked his hand slowly over the pelt of his rabbit. Before he shut the door, he told him lowly, "You have no proof."

Denmark blinked flabbergasted at the closed door before he bristled and exploded, "I _know_ you're guilty! Murderer! The world will know what you're doing; I'll prove it! I'll stay close by from now on because I'll be watching you, Netherlands!"

Netherlands heard it all. He huffed through his nostrils then beckoned his soldier to join him at the table to eat their cooling take-out.


	7. Chapter 7

**Many thanks to CastingWhiteShadows for not beating me up after I wrote this. Heads up, there's** **probably... _maybe_ a lot of blood, gore, and brutality in general in this chapter. **

* * *

After all the taxing events of the day, there was nothing more tempting than to step out for a smoke. Netherlands glided his hand over a pack that he had, before he considered the darkness outside his window. With a soft exhale, his hand carried on and left the pack where it was. He opted instead to take a hot shower as the choice method to soothe away his stress.

After that was done, he found himself to be exhausted. He brushed his teeth and put on his pajamas in preparation for bed. Netherlands then was surprised when he was caught in the hall to be given a glass of water from the soldier.

"Goodnight, Sir," he told Netherlands.

Netherlands looked at him in surprise as he accepted the glass. He stammered at first until his composure was re-attained, "Oh, thank you… Good night to you as well."

He turned and went back to his room. He shut off the light then crawled under his covers, lying on his back to stare up at a ceiling he could not see. In a minute something pressed into the blankets beside him, but his startlement was short-lived when he felt a tiny nose touch his exposed hand. First soft paws touched his ribs, then the rest of the body followed to cozy up on his chest. Netherlands lifted a hand and stroked over the rabbit's body once before he sank into the mattress and closed his weary eyes.

He slept for a few hours until three knocks at the door very nearly shook the house with their strength. Netherlands gasped and shot up, his rabbit jumping away in fright. He leapt off his bed and stood there in indecision, his breathing rate increasing in the darkness. He checked his alarm clock and became more afraid.

 _Who would knock on my door at midnight?_

He then heard the door open. Netherlands realized that his guard had done this, but when he heard no talking, he deduced that he had not met anyone there to talk to. The guard was going outside to investigate, which meant that he would be left alone in the house.

"No, idiot!" he exclaimed. "Call the police! Don't leave me!"

Netherlands closed his door and locked it. He left the light off but stood at the door listening for any footsteps in the house. He stood there in silence until he noticed the moonlight shining in from the window. Netherlands carefully crept across his room as to not set off any creaks on his way to it. He took a peek outside, expecting to see the soldier circling the house, but instead found a silhouette hidden in the shadow of a tree, staring up at him. It was a deeper darkness than the blackness it stood in; tall and still. Netherlands could not see many features, but it was too thin to be Germany or Russia, and there was no outline of eccentric hair. This was not Denmark here to spy on him. It was Sweden.

He hollered and stumbled backwards. The shadow raced away, leaping across the grass like a nimble fox until it was gone from sight. His soldier arrived on scene, but the yard was now cool and empty. Netherlands unlocked and threw open his window. He stuck his head out and yelled at him, "Get back in here now!"

When the soldier came into Netherlands' room, he was on his bed still shivering. In the darkness he let his tears of fear and rage dot the corners of his eyes. Netherlands heard the footsteps, and without looking up, he snapped, "Why aren't you calling the police?"

"Sorry, I'll do that right away."

The soldier rushed away in the direction of his home phone. Netherlands promptly became overwhelmed with stress as he found himself alone again. His heart quivered weakly in his chest as he was pulled back to the window. His next inhale was a squeak when he saw that the silhouette had returned with its head tilted and looking right back at him.

"No, no, no…" Netherlands whispered hoarsely as he backed away again. He could not see a weapon on Sweden, but the sharp eyes that he could not see terrified him. He turned his head back and shouted down the hall, "He's back! Come back here!"

The soldier trampled back into the bedroom.

"Stop leaving me!" Netherlands snapped again. "You can use _my_ phone. Do your job and protect me!"

"Okay, okay." The soldier walked up to the window and looked out. There was silence for a few moments before the soldier said, "There's no one there."

"He was," Netherlands muttered. "Twice. Did you call the police yet?"

"I dialed for them then left the phone to come to you."

Netherlands felt some relief, then he uttered in a steadier voice, "You are going to stay here in this room for the rest of the night. Do not leave. You made a very serious mistake in going outside. Leaving the door unlocked behind you- what the hell were you thinking?"

"But, Sir, I locked the door behind me."

Netherlands cooled slightly, but he wanted to finish his point.

"Just… He wants to separate us. Don't let him do that."

"It will be alright." The guard touched his lower back. Netherlands was not sure how to feel about this, but he was still frightened and exhausted. He let the soldier lead him back to his bed. The guard handed him the glass of water that he had so far left untouched. There seemed to be a lot of control in the atmosphere, so Netherlands relaxed and took the glass into his hands. He drank from it deeply and tried to let its coolness calm him.

"I'll stay up," the guard said. "I am not tired. Do not worry. I will watch over you and you can sleep."

Netherlands put it back on the stand beside him. He nodded sleepily as he became increasingly tired. Sweden did not concern him anymore; he became so exhausted that he fell over his sheets without even fixing them over himself. Seconds later he had fallen into a deep sleep. His rabbit returned and pawed at him confusedly, but he did not stir.

"There," the guard whispered.

He sat on the edge of the bed and waited.

* * *

Netherlands woke at six. At first, his body felt so heavy that he could not move it. He creaked open his eyes with effort and found his soldier awake across the room, on his knees and with his back to him. He was murmuring something, and Netherlands noticed for the first time a gold chain around his neck.

Netherlands asked in a murmur, "Are you praying?"

The murmuring continued for another minute until the man stopped. He then replied, "I am. It helped the night go by."

 _Praying for hours?_ Netherlands was surprised.

Netherlands tried to pull himself out from the bed. He placed his feet on the floor, but when he stood, his legs instantly buckled and he fell.

 _What…?_ It felt as though both his legs were asleep. The soldier collected his body and put him back onto the bed. Netherlands sat there dazed, his head rolling as he realized that he was still not fully awake.

"Are you sick, Sir?" he was asked. "What's wrong?"

"I… I think I'm still tired."

"You should go back to sleep in that case."

The guard tried to offer him water again. Netherlands refused it and lay back in his bed.

"I have to get up," he sighed. "Just… could you get me something from the fridge?"

"Sure thing."

The soldier left him. Netherlands sat up again and tried getting onto his feet. He managed to stand with a lot of focus, and he slowly shuffled to the bathroom. He was beginning to feel the tiredness floating away like a cloud. He made it back to his room afterwards and got himself into casual day clothes before he padded down towards the kitchen.

As his mind cleared more and more, he began to think.

 _I wonder if they caught Sweden? The soldier didn't say anything. Good or bad news would both be important enough to tell me and others. Didn't he warn the others? The other guy I had would have._

 _Denmark should be freaking out. He should have heard about this. Why hasn't he at least called?_

Then finally, _What's taking that soldier so long?_

He walked into sight of the front door and gasped. It was unlocked and wide open. Netherlands panicked and silently whipped around to check around himself. He did not know if someone had gotten in already. Netherlands saw no one, so he crept towards the door to close it.

When he came closer, he could see more of his yard. Netherlands yelped when he saw a line of skull faces creeping along the side of his house towards the open door. He slammed and locked it before leaping away to call for help. He did not go far. He immediately crashed into something solid that had stolen up on him.

An arm hooked around his neck and Netherlands gagged as he was dragged backwards. He struggled to pull himself out from the headlock, but there was absolutely no strength in his body available to save himself. Netherlands made deep choking sounds as his mind screamed, _Where are you? Why aren't you here?_

He realized everything all at once.

The water had drugged him. The soldier had lied to him, never calling the police and now he had let Sweden into the house. The man that had been trusted to protect his life had utterly betrayed him.

But he had not left. Netherlands gasped vainly in Sweden's hold and watched his guard make an appearance and unlock the door. Immediately after it sung open and the guard stepped back, a crowd dressed in black filtered inside like expected guests. After the last arrival, the door was closed again.

Sweden dropped him. Netherlands hit the floor and stayed there, gasping and quivering. He stared up helplessly at the group that ringed him, and his eyes stretched even wider as they knelt and began to open backpacks and cases. Silver tools with sharp edges were revealed, and then he saw a prepared needle approaching him.

"No," he whimpered. He tried to rise but Sweden pressed him down. Netherlands' eyes shimmered and he jerked as the tip of the needle touched the cloth of his shirt, the point grazing his skin. He cried out as it penetrated him and sank deeper. What felt like hot plastic flowed into him, then the needle slid out. Netherlands yelped again and fought until his movements grew weaker.

He saw that some other masked people were spreading blankets in layers on the living room floor. He was lifted by hands then placed on his stomach onto these blankets. Netherlands was striving to hold onto his consciousness. He clawed at the blanket as he felt scissors running up his back and cutting his shirt off. He began to mewl, "No, no, _please_ don't do this."

In front of his face, his soldier guard knelt. Netherlands flickered his eyes up to him as he ran a hand through his hair in an attempt to comfort him. This drove the fear deeper into his core, and Netherlands' trembling increased and he started to cry.

"Don't worry," the soldier murmured to him. His golden cross glimmered on his chest. "The test trials are over. We'll make you the perfect model."

Netherlands' eyelids drooped. His tongue felt heavy and his movements ceased. Tears spilled as he just managed to whisper to them, "Don't make me kill… please, no…"

The callused hand pet his soft, ungelled hair again. Netherlands wept openly at the touch. It was too gentle and too caring. He wanted it to stop. He wanted the hands off him. The tools, the wires, devices, and masks- he wanted them all away from him but he could not move.

He could only cry until he lost consciousness. Sweden watched silently as the first cut was made and blood rolled over Netherlands' neck to drip a neat drop onto the blanket. He watched everything until it was a lot more than a few drops. Sweden did not move in the hour of careful procedure they performed on Netherlands; he waited until they were done, had stitched up everything, and had set Netherlands back in bed after putting new clothes on him. Then, like the blankets, tools, blood-stained clothes, and people, Sweden exited the house.

* * *

The world was nothing before blackness came. The change was caused by a slow voice in the back of his mind, whispering, _Program installed. Number Five: status online._

His eyes flickered open. He saw himself in a gentle cocoon of blankets and noticed the daylight flooding into the room. Netherlands blinked in astonishment at the alarm clock that displayed 12:01. The ghost of what had seemed like a dream escaped him, and now he struggled to remember those words as he sat up.

 _How did I sleep in so late?_ he wondered. Now that he was up, hunger clawed viciously at him. He stood up and noticed that he was not in pajamas. That confused him. He thought then that he must have accidentally fallen asleep again after changing clothes.

 _Wasted a lot of my day_ , his mind sighed. He stalked out of his room and became even more baffled by the stiffness in his back. When he entered the bathroom he automatically took attention to his hair. He grabbed a bottle of shampoo then stuck his head under the running faucet. He turned it off once his hair was wet then took a dab of the shampoo. He had just begun to scrub it in when he felt a thick bump on the back of his head.

Netherlands saw himself in the mirror and how his expression became surprised. He placed both his hands over the mark and ran his fingers over it. In a second he recognized the feel of stitches professionally woven into his flesh and mostly covered by his hair. He followed the line until it jumped, then he found another line the went down his neck. Netherlands turned to check it out in the mirror. This line was cut off again, but he saw the tip of another begin before his shirt covered up the rest.

He did not know what to think. He was confused, yet his heart pattered steadily. He slowly removed his shirt, minding the suds, and watching everything with his head turned over his shoulder. His view was blocked for a few moments, then he saw the huge cross of stitches that now dominated his back.

 _Where did this come from?_

Netherlands turned back around and stared at his reflection. He tried to think, but it was instantly suppressed with a wave of indifference. Netherlands put up his hands and finished scrubbing his hair then bent forward to rinse it all off. He toweled off, retrieved his shirt and put it back on, then went back to his room for his scarf.

 _I need to cover this up before someone sees this._

He did not really think of why he had to do this. It had become an axiom to him. He wrapped his blue and white scarf around his neck and made sure in the mirror that it covered the stitching. Then he carried on with his routine. His hair was still damp enough to be sculpted by gel, so he fashioned it to his usual sharp style before pressing gel downwards on the hair on the back of his head. It dried and hardened, concealing the last of the stitches. He revolved in the mirror to double-check, then a warm feeling of achievement came to him.

Netherlands energetically strolled to the front of the house in a high mood. He called for his rabbit with the promise of food, but she did not show up. Netherlands was sure that he had taken her inside for the night, but when he doubted this, a lightning flash of a memory returned to him.

 _She was on my chest last night… I was in bed early-_

It faded. The memory was gone as though a switch had flicked off the power in that part of his brain. He blinked as he tried remembering what he had just been thinking.

He realized how hungry he was. He wandered to the fridge and threw open the door. He found leftovers on the shelf, yet he closed the door and walked away. He examined his freezer and cupboard, both of which were lacking in supplies, then Netherlands grabbed his wallet and keys and headed out.

He went first to an ATM and took out more than enough cash before he went on to the grocery store. There was the thought _I need to fill everything_ that convinced him. The emptiness of the kitchen was bothering him. He wanted to see the fridge with drawers filled with vegetables and fruit, and the shelves stocked with milk, butter, mayonnaise… whatever seemed suitable to cram in there. The freezer needed meat and frozen food. The cupboard needed boxes- cereals, pasta noodles, crackers, jams, rice.

He toured the store and filled his cart before paying the expensive total. Blowing off so much money at once should have stirred up many emotions, but again, he felt only satisfaction. This continued when he carried all the bags inside in what took many trips, and when he sorted everything into its rightful spot.

He washed his hands then put together a quick lunch. As he sat at the table, he wanted to be productive after the lost time. He got to work on his laptop with pauses occasionally to eat and drink. After a while, he halted everything when he saw movement in the room from the corner of his eye.

"There you are," Netherlands said.

His rabbit froze and stared across the room with her nose twitching. She bowed her head and smelled the floor of the living room before fixing him with huge eyes.

"What?"

She stood onto her hind paws and stared. Netherlands was taken back. She was alarmed by something, but he saw nothing around himself that was unusual.

 _Is it me?_ he wondered. He bent down and lowered a hand, saying, "It's okay. Why are you scared?"

She hesitantly hopped to him but stretched out onto her belly to smell him.

"Come on," he told her. "It's me."

He stroked her ears and she calmed. He stood up with his empty dishes and walked into the kitchen. She followed him, and now he gave her something to eat.

 _Why was she acting so strange? he thought as he watched her. Why didn't she come when I called her the first time?_

He went back to the living room and looked at the floor.

 _And why was she smelling that?_

Once this thought had been completed, a memory slipped into his mind. For a few seconds he saw the scene anew; the floor no longer unoccupied but covered in layers of blankets with black forms adjusting the corners. These forms moved- they were people, and they raised their heads to look over at him with their white skull faces.

Netherlands remembered fear shocking his body in jolts, and how he had lashed out weakly as he was forced closer towards those faces. Now, he screamed and dropped to his knees. His mind was filled suddenly with skull faces, and upon every glimpse of one, fresh fear attacked him. He remembered the situation. Germany, Russia, Sweden, Switzerland, and deaths arising in Europe. Sightings of those faces, because…

 _They are responsible for everything!_

Netherlands held himself as more flashes of memories flooded his mind before he could be forced to lose interest in them and leave them be. It saw it all now without restriction; the final moments until he had fallen unconscious. The powerful moment came where he was aware of the most important thing he had brushed off this morning without a thought.

 _Needle- stitches. On the blanket, on my stomach- my stitches. Crying… hands on me… No… no… The surgery… The stitches._

 _It is already too late!_

Then a thought overlapped this.

 _Control being lost. Permission to increase levels of component three?_

Netherlands panicked. He understood what was happening now and he was on the verge of racing to the nearest phone. Before he sprang upwards however, the panic shattered. He sat there in confusion as the heat of adrenaline gradually cooled. Netherlands' gasping softened into controlled breaths, and exhaustion washed over him after the fear had dissipated.

 _It's okay. Everything is okay._

It felt that way now. Even with the truth in his mind, he was filled with relief thus accepted this statement.

 _That's right. It doesn't matter. Nothing of this matters. There is no need to be afraid._

He could not discern if this was his own thought or if whoever was talking in his mind had said it. Either way, he agreed. Netherlands stood up with the quiver in his legs disappearing. He straightened out his posture then stared over the floor with more confidence.

 _This did all happen_ , he thought. _But there is nothing to fear._

 _Exactly. We will help you. Nothing to fear._

He nodded to himself once. _Nothing to fear._

 _I am fine. Perfect._

When that personal pronoun was used, he believed that he had thought it. Not only that, but it pleased him. That last word had seemed absolutely suiting. _Perfect_. He wanted to have that word to himself, wearing it proudly like he wore his scarf.

 _I am perfect._

He turned and went back to his laptop. He glanced into the kitchen before he sat down again, and he noticed that his rabbit was gone and the rest of her food had been left unattended. He started to feel bad for frightening her with his scream, but then that feeling numbed. He focused intently on his work more engaged than he was used to. Surprise reached him- then torpor again.

Time passed by fast and it was six. Netherlands leaned back and looked coolly over everything he had taken care off. He was entirely caught up now and a tad ahead. Hungry again, he got up and went back to the kitchen. The food bowl on the floor was still untouched; the rabbit was still in hiding. Netherlands walked past it and opened up the fridge. He selected vegetables and meat with a recipe formulating in his mind.

He dropped his supplies onto the counter then the kitchen became noisy as he pulled out a large pot, pan, measuring cup, cutting board, and knife. The pot was filled with water then set on the burner with its lid on. Netherlands turned it on then began to chop the meat into chunks and got them cooking in the pan first. He did not like to cook often and dirty his kitchen, but now the movements slid out from him easily. He cleaned the board and knife then continued on with the vegetables.

He had just gotten the first rounds added into the shimmering water of the pot when a rhythm of joyous knocks tapped his door. He was reminded of the knocks of midnight, but his mood did not change in the slightest. Netherlands left everything where it was and opened the door.

"Hello!" Belgium chirped.

"Oh, hey. Come in."

He went back to the kitchen trailed by her. Belgium walked in enchanted by the smell of things cooking, the sound of sizzling and boiling, and the sight of her brother using the kitchen.

"Wow, look at you, cooking!" she exclaimed.

Netherlands felt a prick of irritation as he resumed slicing. He muttered, "I can cook, you know."

"Ah, sorry… I know."

He tilted his head slightly without really looking at her.

"Did you lock the door?"

"Oh!" She skittered away to do this. Netherlands huffed impatiently when she came back, filling her with guilt.

"I'm sorry…" she tried.

"Idiot," he uttered. His irritation increased with every fault he found, although he was not sure why he was upset about this when he no longer had fear of Sweden. He did not question it either. The emotion just appeared and he left it as it was.

Belgium gasped and bowed her head. She was silent for a few seconds until she quietly asked, "Why are you so angry today?"

"I'm not."

"You're being so mean!"

"Look," he growled. "You're the one who forgot to lock the door. Do you want me to die?"

She did not know that he was no longer in danger. Netherlands thought, in his own words, _She should have been thinking about my safety!_

"Sorry," she said again. "But I-"

"Don't you care about me?"

"No, no, I do- it's just that… where's your guard?"

Belgium had known he had hired one for himself. Netherlands had forgotten about him until that point, but now he felt that he needed a lie to cover himself.

"He went out to get me supplies."

"What? What did he leave you alone to get?" she gasped.

"Hygiene products." He frowned.

"Oh…" Now Belgium really felt that she was prying. She went quiet again and watched him add more ingredients to the pot.

The staring irked him. He tensed as he was put into an awkward situation. _Why is she doing this to me?_

Finally, she spoke.

"I really missed you," she murmured.

Netherlands listened.

"I heard how you were interrogated and had your house searched," Belgium continued. "I feel so bad that you were blamed. No one really looked at me… just you… I wish it wasn't so unfair. They think you are having everyone killed because you are a homicidal monster. But I know better. You're innocent. "

Deep inside he began to feel calmed and glad to hear these words, but then he was yanked away towards blind irritation again. Every word that came out of her mouth made him angrier, yet he did not know why and it was impossible to pursue the reason. It was the sort of anger that overwhelmed two people in an argument, where they are so furious and hell-bent on their opinion that they do not want for a second to consider the other side's logic.

"I wanted to visit you." Belgium came close to him. "I wanted to see if you were alright, so I came here as fast as I could- I took the train... because I know that you are under a lot of stress and I wanted to help you. That's why you snapped at me… I understand."

Belgium slid her arms around him and hugged him. Netherlands froze and stared at the vegetables in front of him. The embrace tightened, and while he stood there without reacting, she whispered, "Come to my house sometime. I'll make you some waffles."

His chest clenched. Netherlands set down the knife and hugged her back the best he could without touching her clothes with his juice-stained hands. It felt nice. He felt so relaxed and loved, and yet he could not stop his one hand from sliding back up to the counter and grabbing the knife. Rage had sparked so fast that his heart ached from the sudden change. Belgium's eyes flew open in shock when his arm hooked behind her neck and he turned his wrist to slit her throat.

Her arms slipped off his sides. Belgium stumbled backwards clutching her hands over the spurting cut. She looked up at him and caught his gaze. There was pain in hers that was more than physical. He saw her eyes whimpering although her mouth could not, _Why?_

Indeed. Netherlands looked down at his knife with his mouth slightly agape then back to Belgium. She was already backing away to get out of the kitchen. Netherlands knew at that moment that she was now denouncing what she had said about him before. The way she looked at him in terror proved that she no longer thought he was innocent. He was a monster.

Netherlands was stunned by guilt and fear for a few seconds until he realized that she was running for the door. Belgium smacked against it, trying to turn the lock with her soaked hands until she felt her brother press up behind her and grab her shoulders. She became petrified as he murmured, "I can't let you leave."

Her mouth flew open but no screams came out. Netherlands dragged her back into the kitchen and set her on the floor. He took the knife into his hand and knelt down beside her. Belgium was shaking her head, crying profusely, and mouthing pleas. Netherlands raised the knife in both hands then slammed it into her gut just as she tried to get up. She writhed around it, staring across the floor and sobbing silently. He placed her on her back again as he yanked it out then jammed it between her ribs.

Blood splattered his face. He paused to remove his scarf and shirt and throw them out of the room to protect them from the next sprays that would come. Belgium watched him with her mouth working like a fish's. Netherlands looked away from her face. He did not want to get distracted. He knew he could not let himself sympathize when there was a job to do and a secret to keep.

Netherlands lifted the knife and sank it into her body again and again. Blood splashed and poured over the tiles. He burned with fury that his floor was being ruined. As he stabbed her continuously, he snarled, "I'm going to have to _clean_ this after, you know! Why did you have to come here and make a mess? Just _die_ already and stop this!"

He was realizing just how much effort it took to kill a nation. Netherlands finally sawed through her diaphragm and tore open her skin to reveal her guts. They already shone with warm blood from the holes he had poked in them. His hand immediately lunged and grabbed slippery organs, pulling them then stabbing and cutting until it was severed from her body. Netherlands ripped organ after organ from his sister's body, tossing them carelessly to the side where they slid across the floor.

That was when she finally stilled and stopped crying. Netherlands panted from exertion beside her, soaked in hot blood with his hands sticky with gore. He stood and stepped around the blood. He left the room then returned carrying many blankets. He used two of them to wipe around the floor to soak up the majority of the blood before he used the others to wrap Belgium in. He walked around the kitchen to find her detached organs and he crammed them into the bundle as well. He then bent her into a ball and put many layers of garbage bags around her. He put the extra bloody blankets in another bag then he tied every one firmly.

He paused to turn the stove onto a very low heat. He then went upstairs to shower and put on clean clothes. He untied the bag of blankets and stuffed his blood-covered pants inside before re-closing it. He then snagged the bag and headed to the front door.

Darkness had fallen by now, and he checked to make sure the street was empty before he threw the bag into the back seat. The next one took more effort to carry, and he threw this one into the trunk. He carefully closed it then realized he would need more tools. Netherlands went back into the house and grabbed a flashlight, lantern, and shovel. All these things went into the back as well before he dove away from his locked house.

He drove far from his house in the direction to Belgium's country. He rolled eventually into a lonesome forest and parked the car. He took the lantern, shovel, and bag of blankets first. Netherlands strolled far off the path and pushed through the undergrowth until he felt as though this was far enough. He then set everything down then worked with the readied lantern. He used his lighter to bring it to life, then he set it on the ground before stalking away.

He now used his flashlight to help him back to his car. Netherlands pulled his last piece of cargo out and dropped it on the ground. He closed the trunk then calculated how he was going to hold this heavy bag and the flashlight.

He lugged through the forest, recognizing trees and bushes until he saw the glow of his lantern up ahead. He gladly put everything down at this site. He powered off the flashlight then grabbed the shovel. With the light glowing honey-coloured over him, he grunted and exhaled in the forest full of insect chirps and night bird calls. He dug deeper, fighting through roots and tough ground. It felt to him that he was here under the dark treetops for hours before he had created a pit profound enough. He shoved the body down into the hole, covered it with dirt, then put the bag of blankets over top and buried it entirely.

Netherlands smoothed out the top and was satisfied that there was no bump. He walked around collecting needles, leaves, and sticks to place over top of the disturbed ground. It was now camouflaged, but he dragged over a huge branch and set it on top, the cherry to the cake.

Now that he was drenched with sweat and dirt, he fancied another shower. He gathered his lighter load and returned to his car weary and ravenous. He departed the forest and drove back, growing more tired and hungry, and becoming exasperated at the thought of the blood in the kitchen that he still had to clean up. When these feelings came however, they were pushed away by a powerful reward feeling.

He became happy in seconds. He had butchered his sister and disposed of her body, and this all felt wonderful. Netherlands turned up the radio and rocked side-to-side to the music with a smile locked on his face.

When he pulled up to his house late in the night, he saw that the tall shadow had returned. It was waiting in the shadow of the tree like it had been before, although now another tall and thicker shadow was beside it. Netherlands parked the car then strolled placidly up to the door. No words needed to be said. Netherlands walked into his house with Sweden and Germany following in his wake.

Inside, he passed a mop and a bucket with a bottle of floor cleaner in it to Germany.

"Mop the floor. Get rid of all the blood and wipe it off when you are done."

To Sweden, he said, "Wash off all the surfaces and put everything else away. Do the dishes and set the table."

Netherlands turned off the stove and moved the pot off the burner. He swept away from them on a direct route to the shower. He took his time cleaning himself off then he gathered all his laundry and threw it into the washing machine. He waited to start it however. He checked on Sweden and Germany, then he pulled Germany away and told him to shower as well.

"I'll try to find something that fits you," Netherlands muttered. "Wait in the bathroom when you are done until I knock."

Sweden dumped the blood-stained lettuce into the compost before he started cleaning off the rabbit's food bowl. Netherlands left him and led Germany to the bathroom. He seemed to be able to function on his own. Netherlands dug through his closet and drawers until he found the baggiest things he had and rarely wore that would accommodate Germany's muscles. He dropped everything into a pile in front of the door then knocked before leaving.

Netherlands mopped until Germany returned. Then Sweden left on his own without needed to be commanded to do it. Netherlands had an easier time finding clothes for him. Once he had all of their dirty clothes, he started the washing machine. He helped finish up cleaning the kitchen, then they gathered at the table with the soup.

Netherlands nonchalantly opened up his laptop again while Germany and Sweden ate across from him. He opened up a social service site for the first time today and saw a message waiting for him. A click, and he found out that the sender had been Belgium.

The message said, _Brother! I'm coming over to visit you today! :3_

Netherlands sipped the soup, then typed a response.

 _Sorry I missed this. Been working and cooking all day then I fell asleep for a bit._

He smirked softly, then added, _Where are you?_

He let that message hang, knowing that a response was not going to come even when the morning came. He finished his bowl and had another one before he put Sweden back on dishes again. Netherlands might have done it himself, but he was in a good mood. He popped a cigarette into his mouth then headed outside with his lighter.

As he opened the door, a blur raced by his feet. Netherlands stared after the white form of his rabbit as it fled from his house, crossed the street, and disappeared into the night. He blinked, and for a moment he felt as though she had escaped and taken with her a core piece of his true self. That feeling left as he received contempt.

Netherlands leaned against the wall and lit the end of his cigarette. He took a long drag from it then closed his eyes. He thought of his new possession of Number One and Number Three, then he began to plot his next move.


	8. Chapter 8

**To everyone reading this story, thanks for all the support. Reviews will continue to be appreciated greatly.**

* * *

Switzerland knew that he had to lay low and plan out the next attack. Last time he had been successful in a vicious surprise offense, but now he was expected by all the nearby countries. He would have to be sneakier this time, in order to be able to get away from the police once all was said and done.

Switzerland came to Italy's house just as Netherlands was forcibly aligned with him and the others. He did not assault the house immediately, however. He parked the truck he had been driving down the street and observed the house for hours in order to check the movements of those inside. In this way he learned that there were at least three soldiers. If he were to shoot one, the noise would attract the others and this time it would be gun-against-gun instead of gun-against-defenseless-prey. Switzerland did not need to take what was honorable. He was willing to use his army knife and catch them all in the back if that was what self-preservation required.

In the evening he became intrigued. He spied on the soldiers that popped out of the house often to load a van with boxes and suitcases. He thought, _It looks as though Italy is going away._ Switzerland watched how the van filled up, then considered _, If they are trying to get out of the city to escape me, they might go somewhere secluded. A place with less people increases my chance of escape._

He thus decided that he could wait until Italy moved. He could then follow him to his new location and attack when Italy thought that he was safe and hidden. Switzerland did not sleep that night, not wanting to miss his target's move. After dark, he wandered towards the house in a stolen sweater with his hood up and his weapons locked in the truck. He strolled by feigning disinterest, not stopping even when Romano folded back a piece of the curtain and peered out into the night. He turned away his face, pretending to dig through his side pocket for a phone as he ambled on. Switzerland walked away unrecognized, although he thought with eager anticipation, _So they're both in there!_

He came back an hour later to find that two lights were still on, one at each end of the house. _They are probably asleep_ , Switzerland figured, _with only the lights on because either the soldiers are still awake or they want to make me unsure._

He could not rule out one-hundred percent that they were in for the night. He did not want to lose them, so he stayed vigilantly awake all night, staring at the house from the truck's back window. Nothing ever happened until the morning however. Only then did the soldiers emerge from the house and check the yard before ushering Italy and Romano into back of the van. Switzerland ducked down, tying back his hair and setting a floppy hat and a large pair of sunglasses on himself. He listened to the engine of the van starting up, and he stayed down until he saw in the mirror the van approaching.

Switzerland popped up clad in the items of his disguise. He saw the van at the intersection signaling right, and once it turned, he rotated the key and the truck snarled in awakening. Switzerland hurried to the end of the street so as to not lose sight of the van. He espied it going on straight ahead with a few cars between him and them.

The van went onto a highway. Switzerland was pleased by this. It would be harder to tell that he was following them if they were not making any turns. Switzerland matched the speed of the van and kept focused on it for the hour that it stayed on the highway. When it changed lanes, he figured that it was about to head off. Switzerland expressionlessly copied its actions a few seconds later.

They entered a small city. At the first stop sign, Switzerland rolled to a calm stop behind the van. He bent forward to fiddle with the radio, knowing that the driver was likely to check the side mirror right then. Switzerland sat up and drove forward, obeyed traffic laws, then crept close again.

They did not stop for food as he had expected and instead it seemed that they were nearing their final destination. The van headed onto a quiet, dusty road that cut through the forest. A hill approached, and Switzerland listened to the deep roar of the truck's engine as it powered up the steep incline. Once at the top, the van turned. This time, Switzerland did not follow it. He drove on, knowing that the van had gone down the driveway to one of the many cottages nestled there in the random forest.

Switzerland turned into the next driveway and found no cars stationed by the shabby cottage. From the state of the building, he assumed that the other cottages were equally run-down and therefore there were not going to be many people around here on vacation. For this, he thought, _This is ideal._

He parked the truck then turned and dug out water and a granola bar from the console. He opened the door and hopped onto the dry soil to be instantly surprised by a cool breeze. Once it carried on, warmth returned, but its omen was undeniable.

Summer was ending; autumn was on its way.

* * *

"Oh, damn it!" Romano cried.

Italy looked over as Romano danced around a centipede. This was not the first undesired resident they had met here. From the thick webs guarded by massive spiders adorning every corner to the earwigs running along the sides of walls, there was no escaping the presence of many-legged creatures. One of the soldiers as well looked around in disgust at it all, but the other two remained unaffected.

"It won't hurt you," one of the two calm ones spoke up. "It takes a lot to get a centipede to bite you."

"I don't care," Romano muttered, standing still and glaring at the crack of darkness under the musty couch where the centipede had retreated. "Too many legs. It's like moving hair; it's creepy."

It made an appearance, swerving in a semicircle into the open before racing back under the couch. Romano had tried to catch it under his foot, but it had been too swift. He groaned and jumped onto the couch, joined soon by his brother on the cushion beside him.

There was silence for many seconds. A bird twittered in a tree just outside the house. Then, Romano sighed softly and murmured, "But this place is good..."

Italy nodded solemnly, devoid of joy. His inability to shake himself from his depression made discomfort stir again in Romano. The way he never smiled anymore and the way his words no longer rang was just so unlike Italy. He did not cry anymore since after Prussia's funeral, but Romano was sure that this was not a good sign.

"Hey," Romano tried to comfort him. He was always trying; always failing, but he knew that he had a responsibility as the older brother to care and say something for whatever it was worth. "It will be over soon, and we'll stay here safe until then."

Italy put his chin in the palm of one hand.

"No one will find us," Romano said. "Don't worry about us anymore."

Silence still.

"Germany will be okay."

Italy sighed, "No. He won't be."

Romano pressed, "Listen, I'm serious. They caught him before, and they'll catch him again. Once they got him, they'll work out a way to fix him. If someone can create technology that messes with his brain, then removing it can't be as complicated."

"What if they _don't_ capture him?" Italy faced him. "What if they just shoot him on sight? Everyone in Europe has soldiers guarding them by now. I heard all about the Baltic place and its traps, alarms, and four guards. If Germany goes there, he'll get hurt or killed!"

"I don't think they will shoot to kill"-Romano was not entirely sure if he believed his own words- "I believe they'll just try to incapacitate him."

Italy frowned. "Everyone knows Germany. They know how he is and that he wouldn't just do this."

Romano replied, "Of course they know. That's why they won't kill him. No one wants to, alright?"

Italy swallowed and did not move. Romano placed his hand on his shoulder and forcibly turned him towards him. Italy lifted his head as Romano put his other hand on his other shoulder.

"Alright?" Romano stressed.

Italy nodded. Romano sighed deeply and fell back against the cushion. He yelped when he felt the spider that had been on his back frantically skittering to escape.

* * *

The night had been difficult. They rolled and twitched when minuscule feet trampled over them constantly, and at one point Romano leapt off his bed and aggressively shook unseen creatures off his blanket. The upside was that they had trouble sleeping because of being tickled and annoyed, and not because they were too afraid to fall asleep and never awaken.

They slept without being disturbed by any threats. Italy and Romano padded to the dimly lit kitchen and pulled out breakfast from the fridge and cupboards. There was power here, and if housecleaning was done, then the old place could be rendered comfortable. One of the soldiers was wiping the dirt off the table with a soapy towel, its top, underside, sides, and legs, until it was transformed into a shining antique.

"So what do you want to do?" Romano asked him. "No one is around. We can walk around freely. Do you want to go into the town? Swim? Come on, it's like we're on vacation."

Italy replied, "Swimming… it'll get cold soon so we should do it while we can."

Romano nodded slowly although he hurt on the inside. _Nothing excites him anymore. Can't he just smile?_

"I don't know if we should just go around in town," a soldier said. "Alone, you might be defenseless. With us, it makes you both obvious. I'm sure you can do whatever you want in the river and forest safely, but let's not lose all caution."

The other two Italian soldiers nodded in unison.

"I was never going to drop my guard," Romano uttered. "Nowhere's truly safe in these times."

"Robbers too," the other soldier mentioned. "There might be people around who break into these buildings to take furniture, or see if anyone is staying here so they can take your money and electronics."

"We'll do perimeter checks." The third soldier looked to the second. "It's our job to keep them safe after all, from anything."

"I know, I know," the first speaker sighed.

The soldiers set their food on the table and sat with the brothers to eat. The soldiers there did not make any feelings of awkwardness arise; they had gotten to know each other better in the days they had spent in the same house. With every chair occupied, it gave a false sense of a family gathering.

"If you're going out to the river," the insect-hating soldier wiped his mouth, "I'll go check out the area just to make sure."

"Me too," another said. "It's better that two of us go. No one should be alone."

"Sure."

Those two departed the cottage with their rifles set in their hands. Italy felt a little better to see the two armed men leave together, but the sinking feeling that had appeared since their departure remained. He still could not bring himself to relax. He watched Romano stand to carry his dishes to the sink. Italy looked away with a look of agitation crossing his face. He looked at the last soldier here eating with his head down, then Italy rose and took away his own dishes.

After putting everything away, Italy grabbed his phone when passing the counter and he snuck it into his pocket where it would stay close. He walked back to the living room to join Romano, who was on the couch sorting through some papers. Italy had just sat then when there was a solid _thunk_ that hit the window.

The soldier perked and rose from his chair, asking, "Was that a bird?"

It had sounded soft, which it would not have if a stone had struck the glass. The soldier hurried over to the door and swung it open to pop his head out. He looked to the right and into the overgrown bushes to see if a bird was there drawing its last breaths. The door was in the way, blocking his sight of the figure stuck against the wall and the two bodies strewn over the grass.

He was surprised with an arm bent around the door and a knife quickly inserted itself into his throat. The soldier stumbled forward with the knife jammed into him and the door clicked neatly behind him. Switzerland yanked his army knife out and rubbed the blood off on the grass as the soldier fell forward. Switzerland folded the blade in then stuffed it in his pocket before readying his machine gun and strolling up to the door.

Yet again, it took only a moment for Italy's day to change. He was just looking down at Romano's papers when he heard the door creak open. He did not glance up, but Romano had, and now he was screaming shrilly. He snatched Italy and threw them both away an amazing distance before the _rat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat_ burst the cushions into scattered fluff. Italy coughed when he and Romano hit the ground roughly, and he cried out as Romano yanked him to his feet running and yelling creative swears.

Italy still had not seen him yet, but he knew that Switzerland had gotten into their house. How they had been found, he did not know, but they did have guards who were not making an appearance at this crucial time and he was terrified.

They tore through the house with Romano slamming doors behind them. Bullets shot through the wood and narrowly missed them as they fled. They dove into a room then threw open a window. Italy sailed out it first and Romano dove through after him. Italy yelped and missed landing on a dead body, but Romano cried out as his feet landed squarely on a soldier's chest with a crunch.

"Damn bastard freaking killed them all!" Romano gasped as they sprinted away from the soldier with an accurately sliced throat.

They zigzagged as a rain of bullets pursued them. Switzerland was in the window they had just escaped from, trying to fell them. The Italian brothers ran around the house to get out of view for cover. Switzerland jumped out then raced after them, and when they heard his weapons clacking against each other, they only ran faster.

Switzerland could hardly compare to their speed. He dropped some of his guns to lighten his load and at least keep them in sight for a while longer. He followed them into the forest, running after them blasting two pistols per hand. Italy screamed and Romano shouted, "Trees! _Trees!_ "

The message was understood. They weaved around the trees and used them to shield themselves from Switzerland's bullets. They got further away in the forest while Switzerland growled as he fought through flora to get to them. Italy and Romano burst onto the path, and with Switzerland currently out of sight, they ran down it in the open, accelerating side-by-side.

Italy whipped out his phone and Romano stared at him in appreciative surprise as he pressed his fingers over the keypad. Italy raised the phone and quickly relayed the situation in a voice high with fright.

They skidded to a stop when the path curved around a cliff. Romano looked to Italy and said, "You know what we got to do."

They quickly dove behind thick trees and stood stiffly while waiting. Italy hung up so that no voices would be heard bleeding through his phone. He tucked it into his pocket and heard soon after, clanging and footsteps thumping rapidly closer. Switzerland flashed by them, then they pounced. He barely caught a glimpse of them before they bowled into him and he skid across the dirt. He whirled around and tried to aim his pistols at them but then he slipped and fell off the cliff with a cry.

Romano and Italy raced to the edge. They saw him crash on his side on a rock ledge near the bottom, then roll off and splash into the river. He disappeared under the surface and they waited for him to come back up. He did after many long seconds, coughing and struggling to keep his head above the water. He kicked furiously while one arm flopped repeatedly over the surface. The other was staying underwater, prompting Italy to ask worriedly, "Why isn't he using the other arm?"

They watched the slow current taking Switzerland further out and away from the shore. They turned their heads and observed him far below as he began stripping the weapons off himself. Switzerland struggled to get everything off, using the arm that had been helping him swim to remove the straps. He relied on his legs and he bobbed in and out of sight.

"He must have injured it in the fall," Romano replied.

Switzerland popped up finally with every rifle off him. He rose higher after he had dropped the weight, but he was still fighting to stay up.

"He's tired now," Italy said.

"Yes."

"I don't think he's strong enough to get out of there."

Romano fixed him with a glare. He huffed, "You want us to go and save him?"

"He might drown!"

"He killed Hungary," Romano reminded him, "that micronation kid, and our soldiers."

"Switzerland is being used. It isn't him who is doing this." Italy stretched open his eyes and stared pleadingly at his brother. "I like him- the real him. I don't want him to die."

"Yeah, okay. Let's go." Romano turned and ran down the path to the river and Italy tore after him. Near the shore, Romano exclaimed determinedly, "Alright! We'll pull him out, get him taken into custody, and maybe they can fix him!"

Romano took off his shirt then dove into the river. Italy took his off as well and tossed his phone on the ground before he jumped in after him. The water was cool and would have been refreshing if they did not have something else to put their minds on. They swam quickly with the current and caught up to Switzerland, who was vainly attempting to swim to the shore on his own.

Romano swam around until he was in front of him. Now that Switzerland had noticed their arrival, he glared back and forth between them silently.

"We know you're intelligent enough to understand us," Romano said. "So work with us, why don't you?"

Switzerland tread water without replying as Italy and Romano swam closer. Romano tried to grab him, but he was shoved underwater as Switzerland leapt on top of him. Switzerland pressed onto his back and took in full gulps of air while trying to keep the mass under the surface. Italy was about to intervene, but Romano threw Switzerland off and spluttered.

"Hey!" he growled.

Romano grabbed at Switzerland, who only shoved him under again when touched. Italy hooked his arms under Switzerland's armpits and dragged him back. Romano popped up again, this time yelling, "We're trying to save you, idiot! Stop trying to drown me!"

Switzerland lay back and put Italy underwater this time. Romano cried, "That's it!" before grabbing Switzerland and holding him under the surface. Frantic bubbles came out and a hand rose up and pawed at Romano's arm. Romano waited until Switzerland's movements grew weaker before he lifted him out. Now Switzerland stared around himself sleepily and was limp in his arms. He no longer had the energy to attack. Italy and Romano took hold of him and swam on their backs to shore with him floating between them.

They got out of the water then dragged him over the bank, covering his back in mud. They rolled him onto his side and watched over him as he recovered his breath. Italy saw a bulge in his pocket and he pulled out the army knife while Switzerland was still too weak to move. Italy pulled out the blade with his fingers. Romano gawked as Italy then pressed the tip against Switzerland's throat without uttering a single word.

Switzerland cast him a dirty glare. He inhaled deeply, then muttered, "And?"

"Don't move," Italy told him softly; gently.

"You wouldn't do it," Switzerland said. "I know you won't because you put in so much effort to save me."

"If you try to hurt us, I have to," Italy's voice shook. He found that for some reason, he was more afraid speaking to Switzerland than when he was running from him.

Switzerland tried to rise now. He had nearly sat up, but Italy pressed him back down to the ground and dug in the blade until a thin line of scarlet opened up.

"Stop, please," Italy pleaded. "You don't want to kill us. There's technology in your head. You're being told what to do."

Switzerland spat, "I don't care!"

Romano said, "They're making you not care. Try being conscious of this and fight it."

"No." Switzerland bared his teeth. "I will kill you. I want to kill you."

"And why is that?" Romano asked him lowly.

Wrath twisted Switzerland's face. He leapt off from the ground but Italy tripped him and Switzerland fell. Italy caught him by the shirt with his free hand before Switzerland impaled his own throat on the knife.

"There's no reason, Switzerland," Italy told him. "Just think about it!"

The more they said, the angrier he became. Overcome with the one powerful emotion, he lost the ability to think logically. He fought wildly against Italy, and Romano slammed his hands down to pin him. What they had in their advantage was that one of Switzerland's arms seemed to be dislocated. It was easier to keep the man turning savage down in place.

Sirens passed by. Italy and Romano knew that they would not be found, so they began dragging Switzerland with them up the path. Switzerland need to be choked a little by an arm hooked around his neck to subdue him. He tried to drag his heels and pull, but Italy picked up his legs while Romano kept Switzerland's face a certain shade of red. They made it past another old cottage before they came out onto the road.

Many emergency vehicles were stationed along the road, so it was no problem getting spotted. Police officers ran to them, and they finally dropped Switzerland and let them take over. Italy and Romano watched with a great sense of relief as Switzerland was fitted with handcuffs and his exhausted body was transported into the back of a cruiser. They were checked over naturally, but both were uninjured. They explained however, that their guards had all been killed. The police already knew of this, as some of them had gone down to their cottage and found the bodies. The brothers were escorted into a car, told that it was best that they move to a new place, and a place less isolated.

Romano and Italy watched the cruiser with Switzerland roll down the hill. Then their car went down after it, and they left behind the cottage that had been their new home for such a transient period of time.

* * *

Netherlands typed up a storm on his computer the next morning. Germany and Sweden were asleep on the couch still, seemingly exhausted from nights staying up and lurking around. When someone knocked on the door, Netherlands whirled around and saw that the other two had shot up awake. They hurried away on soft feet without needing to be commanded, and Netherlands called out, "Hold on!"

He came over to the door and unlocked it. He threw it open and stood confidently before his returned soldier guard, the one who had drugged and betrayed him. He nodded once in acknowledgement, then let him in.

"Where have you been?" Netherlands asked as he locked the door behind him.

"Don't worry about it," was the reply. "I will show you later."

He did not feel inclined to pursue the subject. Netherlands stalked back to his computer with the utter intention to work. He had just sat down when the soldier popped up at his side, asking, "Where are One and Three?"

He immediately understood. "Around," he replied.

The soldier wandered away to try and find them. Netherlands continued typing, and when he heard no commotion, he assumed that Germany and Sweden had not attacked him. A minute later they all came back to the living room. Netherlands ignored them as they lounged without purpose, especially once a message appeared.

It was his younger brother Luxembourg.

 _Hey, have you heard from Belgium?_ he asked.

Netherlands wrote, _No. She messaged me that she was coming over, but she never showed up._

Luxembourg was online. He responded instantly, _You don't think anything happened to her, do you?_

B _ut no one is around who could get her. I mean, Sweden and Germany would come to me first, but they haven't shown up yet._

Luxembourg persisted, _I think something happened to her!_

Netherlands typed, _We should call the police. She might even have been turned into one of them._

Netherlands then said aloud to the others, "We have to move Germany and Sweden to another location. I might be investigated again."

The soldier said, "My house is nearby. No one lives there but me, and I go over there often enough to check on the place. If you send food, they can fend for themselves until you need them."

"Excellent. Do this now."

"In daylight?"

"We don't have time to waste," Netherlands muttered. "Just make sure no one is looking before you get them in the car."

Luxembourg answered, _You think?!_

Netherlands replied, _I don't know, but she's not around._

The next message was, _I'm scared for her… I'm calling._

"Go," Netherlands growled to his hesitant guard.

"Are you sure?"

"Get them out of here!"

He finally went and packed up some provisions before he headed towards the door. Sweden and Germany followed him and Netherlands heard a click as the door closed. It was nearly the afternoon, but the street was quiet enough that if no cars were around and the sidewalks were empty, they would have no problems.

Once they were gone, he rose and began to clean. Netherlands vacuumed the couch and whatever rooms Sweden and Germany had occupied the most. He had already washed their old clothes and given them back to them, and the articles of clothing they had borrowed he had thrown into the wash with the rest of his laundry. He cleaned the kitchen again and dusted around. He wanted to be sure that any hairs that Germany and Sweden had left behind would be removed in case anyone wanted to look for evidence. What was in his favour was that everyone, including his guard, had blonde hair. Anything could be mistaken to be his unless DNA tests were done.

The cleaning would not be suspicious either. He was known to always be cleaning his house in his spare time, and the last time the police had trampled in, it had been spotless as well. Nothing would be different now. His soldier arrived soon as he was working, and he helped sweep. By the time the police showed up to his house as predicted, he was back to work with the scent of cleaning agents hanging in the air.

"Why are you here again?" Netherlands felt irritation burst within him although he had expected them.

"You were close to her; we have to search the place again."

Netherlands mentally grinned, but he replied steadily, "Go ahead. I have nothing to hide."

A picture of lantern light over a branch-topped, disguised grave came to mind. Netherlands stepped out of the way nonetheless and glared at the police as they came in, feigning offense that they doubted his innocence.

His soldier said, "I can attest that Netherlands has done nothing. He has stayed here, diligently working."

The police wanted some proof however. Netherlands displayed everything he had done this morning and yesterday since he had gotten back from the interrogations. He showed them the messages on his computer and let them search his phone. When they handled it for a while, Netherlands muttered, "You're not really going to take that with you, are you?"

He knew by examining their faces that they had considered it. The soldier pressed, "I have been selected to watch over him. My word is enough to prove his innocence."

That was when they reconsidered their lack of evidence and slowly made their way out. The soldier closed and locked the door behind the last one then turned to Netherlands.

"Good preparation, Sir."

"I know."

He went back to the computer. The soldier asked quickly, "Have you come up with any plans?"

"Yes."

"And?"

"I want to wait a few days until this thing with Belgium slides. I can't go off and have them come to my house and find I'm not here."

"Right," the soldier agreed.

"But I have an idea," Netherlands said. "I will take Sweden and Germany, and together we will go to Denmark where he, Finland, and Norway are."

"That all sounds good."

"It would be easier with Russia," Netherlands put out. "So I requested that he meet us there also with a mask on. I need three more as well, in order to preserve my identity. If disguised, I can pass for Sweden. As long as we aren't seen together, they might only think they are being attacked by three people. And with all of us wearing them, they will think it is because we are showing our allegiance, and not that there is a real reason to hide our faces."

"Don't you want some people from the organization to help you? We can capture them and let you finish them."

"Too many make it impossible to get close. I need low numbers. We can't be seen coming up to the house or else they will just call for backup if they spot a bunch of people. I know what Denmark's property is like, and I have already worked out a plan. Let me take care of it."

He noticed that the guard was looking up at him in awe. His eyes shone and he leaned closer to him.

"You are brilliant," he murmured. "Perfection. Number Five; fully cooperative despite a functioning conscience. You are ours. We have helped you become so much better than the rest of the filth. Eradicate them all, won't you?"

Netherlands nodded slowly. He did not understand why the guard was so close to him, and he did not dwell on it as his being was forcibly locked on a desire for vengeance. Rage stirred up when he thought of the other nations. He stayed trapped in his mind for a few seconds unaware of his surroundings while he was being encouraged to pursue a crimson path faithfully.

When he drifted back to reality, he had his back against the wall and he felt a hand running through his hair. He glanced over and saw the soldier's face in the crook of his neck and he felt breath warm and uncomfortable on his skin.

"What are you doing, Hendrik?" Netherlands stepped away from him. His eyes flared for a moment until his emotions were suppressed promptly. He already lost interest before the soldier had replied, "Nothing, Sir."

Netherlands had caught irritation on Hendrik's face before he replaced it with an attempt at an ignorant smile. Netherlands did not care it was fake, which he knew fully that it was. He turned away and went to prepare his own lunch, forgetting immediately the entire incidence. He came back to the table and carried on with his business, knowing that he needed to get ahead before he commenced the soon-to-come attack on the Nordic refuge.

Later that day he heard about Switzerland's capture with the rest of the world. He read the messages the other nations were posting and he saw how pleased they were. There was relief that one less of them was out there, and then there was excitement for the attempts that would come up to have Switzerland fixed. Netherlands seethed from a painful wrath and he hollered before storming away from his computer. Hendrik watched him prowl around the room before returning to the table and glaring at the screen with icy eyes.

A headache was settling in as Netherlands growled, "They got Switzerland!"

 _Number Four._

The soldier had not heard the voice in his head, but he also reminded him, "That's Number Four."

T _hat is not Switzerland. Stop thinking of them as they were. They are no longer this. They are ours, like you are ours. You are Number Five. Remember. Remember this, Number Five._

Hendrik continued, "He would have been valuable to have, since his intelligence and cooperation was the nearest to yours. He was almost perfect, but not quite. He made too many mistakes. Number One and Two can be made highly aggressive but they are hardly conscious and difficult to control. You have to keep them hidden. Number Three is slightly intelligent. He is good to have and he can work on his own."

Netherlands agreed, "I've noticed the difference. Shame about Number Four, but Number Three is good enough for my uses."

Netherlands got up and closed his laptop. He jogged to his room, changed clothes, then returned. Hendrik was confused, but Netherlands explained by stating, "I need to stay strong. Take me somewhere and let's go for a run. We can train for a week all together with Number One and Three. Speed and endurance are crucial, and we can also practice fighting."

"Of course. Way to think ahead again, Five."

* * *

"Get inside," Norway muttered.

He was standing in the back doorway and staring down Denmark as he marched across the grass. He had a guard with him; they had one each now as it had been at the Baltic stronghold. Norway was growing concerned however, at Denmark's constant desire to explore the property looking for traces of an intruder. Finland was now here as well, holding the door frame and frowning as Denmark searched for any footprints in the dirt under the bases of trees.

"Hold on," he replied. He looped around the tree and investigated one of the leg traps he had planted in the yard after taking after Latvia's example. This one had started to become visible, and he scraped some leaves back over the hole filled with sharpened stakes. They all knew where they were, so Denmark swerved around the yard as he headed back to the door. There was a large one right in front of the door, so Norway and Finland backed out of the way as Denmark and the soldier leapt over it to get back inside.

"Alright, we're in for the night," Denmark said as the soldier locked the door. "Everything looks good."

He had yet to see signs of anyone lurking in their yard and spying on the house. He was admittedly disappointed that he had not caught any sign of Sweden, because by now he was growing agitated that no one had seemed to have even glimpsed him after he escaped.

Denmark started to prepare some coffee for them all. He thought that now with the twilight sky rapidly darkening, it was a good time to wind down and be with each other. He was avoiding alcohol now, too afraid to be even the slightest bit dull when there was so much danger in the area. Coffee was the replacement they were going for these days, and he served it with cheese, crackers, buttered bread, and grapes.

The soldiers sat down with them at the table upstairs; the same table that the Nordics had their last meeting together at. Norway swallowed hard as the seat beside him where Iceland had sat was taken by a Danish soldier.

"I heard that they have an idea as to how to get the toxins out of Switzerland," Finland spoke up, initiating the conversation. "But it is risky. They located it, and they think if they just break it, the liquid will just run out before it is forced into the bloodstream."

"I see," Norway said. "They don't know if they can get all of it out fast enough."

Finland added, "They were going to do it yesterday but they got stopped because if they are wrong, they might accidentally kill Switzerland. Otherwise-"

"Shh!" Denmark hissed. He stood up slowly from his chair.

"What?" Norway blinked.

"Did you hear something?" Denmark dropped his voice into a murmur.

Instantly Norway and Finland's faces flashed with fear at his words. They shook their heads, and the soldiers rose in full seriousness.

"Above us," Denmark whispered. "A skid on the roof."

It was silent now, but this only raised Denmark's concern.

"What do you want us to do?" a soldier asked.

"Two outside," Denmark said lowly. "One here with us. And be very, very careful. If this is Sweden, he is going to try to trick you. I don't know if he is on the roof. If he's doing what he did last time, he just wants us to think he's there."

"Got it," one responded before she turned and went out with another.

"Denmark," Norway whispered as his eyes darted around the room. "Let's call for help. Italy had three soldiers too and they were all killed. I don't want the same thing to happen to us."

Denmark protested, "But if Sweden hears sirens, he will run away! It's dark now. I just know that he would escape because he managed it in broad daylight. Let him come to us."

"I hope you know what you're doing," the remaining soldier huffed.

"Yes," Denmark nodded. "Come on, guys. Finland- get yourself a gun. Norway, you too."

They had designated two weapon rooms in the house. They went to the closest one and using the light of a phone, they found themselves some arms. Denmark strapped a belt to himself that held a loaded pistol, then he grabbed himself a metal baseball bat and slung it behind his head onto his shoulders confidently.

"Alright." His grip tightened on the handle. "No one turn on any lights. Go now. You know what we planned."

"Denmark, I know we agreed, but you're being stupid again," Norway exhaled. "You can't believe we'll let you go outside. It's _dark_ now."

"The soldiers will be targeted now that they are out," Denmark said. "Sweden will have his attention on them. I can sneak out and hide, then wait to see if he comes by."

"You don't know what weapon he has."

"I have a gun. If he has a gun, we're even. I will just have to tread carefully and spot him before he spots me."

Denmark dashed away. Finland wanted to cry out after him, but he was afraid to raise his voice. They jogged after him, and they saw him peeking out into the front yard. Denmark heard them and barked softly, "Go!" before he silently opened the door. Feeling their insides twist, they finally broke away and went to individual windows where they would peak out and scan the yard.

Denmark cautiously closed the door behind him. The lock was not turned by the soldier, in case he would have to race back in if an emergency came up, and this soldier was now bound to watching the door and making sure that no one came in.

Denmark peered into the shadows before he slunk into them. He went along the border of the yard, stopping and going in a watchful manner. He flitted like a ghost between objects until he settled behind a bush. He lay down in the shadow and kept his head up.

Since he had not seen the soldiers, he knew that they were on the other side of the house. He hoped that they would be able to startle the assailant in his direction. Denmark held the bat determinedly, not wanting to rely on his gun and make a regrettable mistake.

The sound of chirping insects surrounded him. He could not hear the swooshes as arrows were released in tandem from the roof and the thuds as bodies dropped. He could not see the sitting figure in black that sat on the other side of the roof on a slant. Denmark soon picked up however, a flicker of something in his vision. A brief flash of white.

Denmark hardly dared to breathe as he noticed a shadow darting between the dark spots. It had a white face that was turned away from the house so that the glow would not be seen. The skull was facing him, and Denmark was terrified that he had been seen. He did not make a move however, unsure because it had not picked up its pace or directed the loaded bow in its arms at his lying form.

It was easier to see the figure as it got closer. The face helped Denmark keep track of it, and he was relieved that he had no light colours on him that would give him away. The tall shadow walked into the shade in front of the bush, and Denmark understood now that it was heading to the door, for it was now turning its head in that direction.

Denmark surged upwards and leapt over the bush with the bat readied. He swung out and clacked the metal against the back of the black-clothed head. The person dropped without a sound. Denmark checked around himself before he discarded the bat and collected the unconscious form. Then, he hurriedly dragged the body towards the nearby door.

Netherlands had crawled over the roof slowly as to not make a sound. He had been planning to check on Sweden's position, then he froze and flattened himself on the downward slant. He had seen a shadow standing over another, although the one standing did not wear a skull mask. It tilted its head, and Netherlands ducked down before he could be seen.

 _Get Number One to the front!_ Netherlands cried to the voice in his head.

 _Yes._

He did not know how it worked. He assumed that Germany had another person giving him commands, and that person may be sitting side-by-side with the one commanding him. Yet because the voice in his mind had said yes, he knew now that he could get orders sent telepathically to the others.

Netherlands lost sight of them, and he did not hear the door open as Denmark had taken such care to open it quietly.

Inside, the soldier gasped, "Oh my god, you got him!"

"Shh!" Denmark snapped again.

He dropped his load to close and lock the door. Norway and Finland had heard the exclamation, and they rushed downstairs as Denmark tugged off the mask. Sweden's eyes were shut and his head flopped to the side. Finland and Norway's eyes grew huge, and Finland cried, "You got Sweden!"

Denmark murmured,"Yes, but… keep it down. I have a bad feeling that he didn't come alone. It doesn't take that long to search the yard, does it?"

Everyone stared at him with equal looks of horror. Denmark started to lug Sweden's deadweight away from the door towards the living room, where the lights were already on. Denmark regarded him once he was placed on his side on the floor. There was a mess of blood in his hair where he had struck him, but also a jet-black liquid had rolled down his neck to mix with the streams of blood.

"Oh my god," Norway breathed. "Is that…?"

Denmark touched the black liquid and hissed at the burn. Finland raced away and grabbed a roll of paper towels to hand to Denmark. Denmark took a sheet and wiped the black liquid away. Trails of burns were left where it had been.

"Oh yes, oh god _yes_!" Denmark exclaimed in a whisper with tears shining in the corners of his eyes. "Someone- get me a knife!"

Finland went out and got one. The soldier checked around them and listened attentively as the Nordics became distracted. Denmark took the quiver of arrows from Sweden and put him onto his back. He pressed the tip of the knife into the back of his head and felt it hit metal. He worked around it, cutting away hair and skin. Norway moved in and padded the bleeding with sheets of paper towel. Finland knelt and held his gun while waiting for anything to happen.

Denmark revealed a chip first. He wiped the black off it before he sawed at the delicate wires. It parted from him and Denmark threw it away carelessly. Now a grin was stuck on his face and tears fell over his cheeks.

"There, yes," he sniffed. "You don't need any of this!"

Under the chip there were viles. One was broken, and the others were nearly full with other fluids. Denmark tapped at one until it broke. Norway wiped away the fluid then Denmark went for the other.

Footsteps slammed on concrete then the door was smashed with a deafening sound like thunder. Finland and the soldier raised their guns and fired at the broad form in black that was undoubtedly Germany. He dove out of sight and fled from the bullets. The soldier tore after him with Finland rushing in at the last moment to help him. The soldier raced outside and Finland had just made it to the door when he saw something straight and sharp nail the last soldier in the head.

Finland froze where he was and screamed. Germany whirled around but scrambled away as Finland fired at him. Denmark and Norway jolted and looked his way. That was when the window shattered under the blow of a sledgehammer and Russia dove through. Norway and Denmark screamed and leapt back as the hefty weapon swung for their heads. Denmark hurried to pull out his pistol. Russia hurled the sledgehammer at him, forcing him to dive and dodge it.

When Denmark looked up, he saw Russia standing with Sweden in his arms. He shrieked, "No! Goddamn it- _no_!"

Denmark charged but Russia jumped back through the flowing curtains. Denmark raced forward, about to spring out when Finland screeched, "No, Denmark!"

Finland grabbed his arm and yanked him back before he ran outside. Denmark raged in his hold until he succeeded in freeing his wrist. Finland had to tackle his legs just as he was about to jump out. They both fell hard on the floor, and Denmark finally heard him as he cried out, "Someone's on the roof firing arrows! Don't go out there!"

Denmark gasped. Finland released him and stood up with the gun in his hand. Now, Norway came forward, crying.

"I'm calling the police," he choked. "Like you should have done in the first place, you stubborn idiot…!"

Norway already had his phone pressed against his head. Denmark looked from him to Finland as helpless tears exploded from his eyes.

"I- we had him!" Denmark sobbed. "We were going to make him better! We were so close, but they took him back!"

Denmark stood up rubbing furiously at his face as he got his pistol out into his hand. He stopped and looked around them with red eyes with Finland, expecting an attack now that the window and door were both wide open. All of them were crying, occasionally looking down at the paper towels that were soaked red and black, and the unattended knife and chip.

An additional attack never came. Netherlands climbed down from the roof and dashed away with Germany after Russia.

 _Failure._ He was told. _Do not go in the house and risk further loss._

 _I know_ , he thought back. _They'll shoot us._

They ran to the car and leapt inside. Russia shoved Sweden in the back, who thunked against the glass of the window and left a smear. Netherlands slammed the pedal and tore away, taking as many turns as necessary to dodge the sirens that were searching for them. He got used to this car quickly, the one that had been supplied to him from a Danish supporter of their cause because Netherlands had not wanted to display his license plate.

Netherlands took them across the city on quieter streets. Eventually they made it out and drove onto a highway under the quiet and vast night sky. Netherlands did not turn on the radio. The car was utterly silent and he could see the skull faces staring at him in the rear-view mirror.

"Take the masks off," he uttered as he pulled off his. "They are very obvious."

Russia and Germany pulled off their masks without hesitation. Netherlands glanced in the mirror at the gaping hole of Russia's missing left eye then at the fake one. He knew it was a camera and that when he looked into it, a person somewhere behind a computer was staring back at him.

Netherlands looked back to the road ahead and drove in concentration for a long time. He wanted to get back to his house as quickly as possible in case he was somehow going to be accused again for what had just happened. Fortunately Hendrik was at his place to be able to take any phone calls that might come. He had not been unprepared for failure either.

Netherlands eventually heard a groan come from Sweden. He glanced back as Russia and Germany looked to him as well. Sweden stirred against the glass and flicked his too-blue eyes open. Netherlands saw confusion in his gaze as he became conscious. He started to slow down, and he looked around at the farms around them. Netherlands pulled to the side of the road and left the car on idle.

Netherlands whirled around in his seat and faced Sweden,

"Number Three," he muttered. "Respond."

Sweden looked up at him and wrinkled his face as he was overwhelmed with even deeper confusion. As Netherlands frowned in great severity, something in Sweden's mind seemed to click. He snapped his head to the side and his eyes widened as he realized who else was in the car.

Netherlands saw fear. That was when he knew.

 _Number Three is disconnected_ , the voice said. _We have a communication link intact, but components are missing and we have just confirmed upon his awakening that we have lost utter control of his emotions._

"I did not want this," Netherlands sighed. "I needed you."

Sweden unlocked the door and dove out. Russia lunged and caught him, smashing him to the ground. Germany hopped out and ran around the car to join in the struggle. Russia yanked Sweden up to his knees and took an arm while Germany held the other. Netherlands stepped out smoothly from the car and walked up to him.

The voice in his head was silent now. It was obvious what he had to do, because Netherlands felt a rage that could only be tamed by one thing.

 _The end, of course_ , he thought.

Sweden struggled madly but could not fight off both Germany and Russia. Netherlands took out a pistol and placed it against Sweden's head.

He said nothing. He did not hesitate.

He fired twice.


	9. Chapter 9

Luxembourg jumped when alarms blared in his house. He ran to the window and parted the curtains delicately with his fingers covered in expensive, black leather. His fear dropped when he saw his older brother, Netherlands, walking up to the front door of his grand house. Luxembourg hurried away and hopped down the stairs. He shut off the alarm before he swung open the door to greet him.

"Brother!" he exclaimed. "What? You never said you were coming over!"

Netherlands looked over Luxembourg with a tired look in his eyes. Luxembourg frowned and tilted his head in concern as he noticed this and that Netherlands had not even gelled up his hair although it was his usual. Without the aura of sharpness, he looked so run-down and this startled Luxembourg.

"I'm sorry for coming on such short notice," Netherlands sighed.

"Hey, it's fine," Luxembourg said. "Come in, please."

Netherlands plodded in after him. Luxembourg took him to the couch and looked over him worriedly.

"Can I get you something? What do you want?"

"No, don't worry about it."

"I insist."

"I'm not in the mood."

Luxembourg was really thrown off by his brother's attitude. He sat down beside him while still holding his eyes upon him. Netherlands stared forward at nothing until a huge, gray dog walked into the room and he shifted his gaze onto him. He knew Netherlands well. Perlutze came up to him with an amiable attitude until he noticed as well that something was off. He whined while regarding him as expectantly as Luxembourg was.

Luxembourg murmured, "It's Belgium, isn't it?"

Netherlands was still for a moment, then he nodded slowly.

Luxembourg continued gently, "I'm so scared too. But… I like to think that no news is good news. If she was killed, it would have been obvious. Every time it happens, there's a mess and chaos. So maybe… she's just been turned psycho. It is a little better. She can be captured and fixed like they're trying to fix Switzerland."

"I really hope so," Netherlands whispered hoarsely.

"I've been expecting her," Luxembourg said. "I have all these alarms in the yard, you see, and if she comes I will catch her."

"Why just alarms?" Netherlands looked at him. "Why didn't you get any guards?"

"I know you got one, but they're useless," Luxembourg told him. "All they do is get killed and get in the way. And I don't want a soldier to hurt Belgium rashly either. I only trust myself."

"But don't you have cameras? Anything else?"

"No cameras, but I have weapons and that monster right there." Luxembourg indicated the fluffy dog who had placed his head over Netherlands' knee. "Also, all the alarms sound different. I mean, different sounds depending on what side of the house someone is intruding on."

"Oh, that is interesting."

"Yeah, but only I've been triggering it until you showed up."

Netherlands dipped his head. Luxembourg felt awkward now, wanting to comfort him but not sure how. Belgium was the most outgoing of them. Luxembourg was somewhat anti-social, being stuck at home too often overworked by his boss. He knew she would know what to say, but for now Luxembourg leaned into Netherlands and attempted to create comforting contact.

It was unusual when Netherlands hugged him back, for both of them had not been the type to do this. His brother, the tallest sibling, put his head over his and swept his hands over Luxembourg's fine clothing. Luxembourg closed his eyes and listened to the beating of Netherlands' heart.

"So no one else visits?" Netherlands asked him in a murmur.

"No," Luxembourg replied just as quietly. "I go out to see my boss, but often I am given assignments online."

"Then you must be bored," Netherlands said. "You would have stayed home alone all day if I hadn't come, correct?"

"Yeah."

Luxembourg sighed. He had not thought about how lonely he had been in this summer of madness. He had Perlutze, but talking to his family online and never seeing them or anyone else because of personal lockdowns was draining. He became appreciative of his brother's appearance. This embrace helped him too, and he thought to himself that he was surprised that Netherlands gave such a nice hug.

He curled up his legs and kept his face pressed against Netherlands' ribs, still listening to the soothing thuds. He wanted to stay there for a while. Netherlands' arms shifted behind Luxembourg's back, then he held him again with his wrist over his hand on his back. Perlutze watched the preparation in confusion, wondering why Netherlands had just pulled something shiny out from his sleeve.

"Luxembourg..." Netherlands lifted his head off his. "Can you look up at me?"

Luxembourg raised his head and looked into his brother's placid face. Netherlands took one of his arms off him then sliced the straightened throat with his knife. Luxembourg yelped at the contact and fell off the couch. The quiet dog suddenly exploded into frantic barking and ran to his fallen owner. Luxembourg knelt and coughed, turning to look at his brother and confirm with his eyes the knife in his hand.

"What are you doing?" Luxembourg gasped.

Netherlands dove for him. Luxembourg scrambled to his feet and fled. Netherlands hurried after him with the knife raised, but the gray dog blocked his path and he unceremoniously tripped over the massive creature. Netherlands looked up as Luxembourg ran to the door, but when the house's alarms began to go off, he smirked.

He saw Luxembourg panicking, and to encourage him outside, Netherlands charged him and yelled, "Come back here, Lux! Let me eviscerate you!"

Luxembourg screamed and dashed out. Netherlands felt that awarding success feeling hit him and he started to chuckle. Netherlands stopped at the doorway and watched Luxembourg skid to a stop and gawk at Russia and Germany who were marching towards him.

Luxembourg veered to the side and ran, instantly setting them off. They overtook him and smashed him to the ground easily. Luxembourg screeched on the grass as fists promptly beset him.

Netherlands heard the dog running down the hall, barking in hysteria. Netherlands shut the door in Perlutze's face then hopped down the steps. He wandered closer then stood in one spot, leaning to the side nonchalantly while observing Luxembourg writhing under the blows. Luxembourg cried and covered his face vainly while turning onto his side. He looked over at Netherlands with one eye squeezed shut in pain and he jolted as fists cracked his skin and bones.

"No, no, please- Netherlands!" he screamed. "Help me!"

He raised an arm and extended a clawed hand out towards him. Netherlands blinked at him and said nothing.

"Why?" Luxembourg sobbed. "Brother, please…!"

Germany nailed Luxembourg in the temple and he was smacked back down. His vision blurred as he was tossed into a daze, and from seemingly far away he heard the alarm resounding and his dog howling in terror over the noise. Blows came again and again. Luxembourg felt himself breaking, and his voice cracked as he whimpered, "Make them stop, Netherlands…"

Netherlands lifted a corner of his mouth but continued to watch in silence as Germany and Russia savagely beat him. Nonstop punches were aimed to inflict the most damage upon his smaller body. Constant cracks emanated until Luxembourg stopped moving and lay still, only sobbing and gasping occasionally in pain. The loud clacks of flesh striking flesh continued mercilessly and after a long while Luxembourg's eyes fell shut and he stopped crying out to him.

They did not stop there. They just kept hitting him, tearing open his skin and spreading blood over the tender spots while driving the shards of bones deeper. Eventually Netherlands walked up and motioned them to stop. Russia and Germany stood and stepped out of the way as Netherlands knelt to check Luxembourg's pulse.

There was nothing now. His younger brother was dead, and he could not stop himself from enjoying the rich feeling of joy. Germany and Russia creaked their mouths open in smiles while bruises they could not feel brightened on their hands. They all were launched into a good mood, and they merrily took Luxembourg's body back inside.

When Netherlands opened the door, Perlutze sprang at him. He dodged him, and Russia dropped Luxembourg's legs to grab the animal.

"Don't kill the dog!" Netherlands barked. "I need him alive."

Russia hurled the dog at the near wall. Perlutze cried out and collapsed, stunned but alive. They continued inside and dropped Luxembourg on the floor. Netherlands pulled off Luxembourg's shirt that he was sure was covered in his DNA, and now he could really see how dented and messy the corpse was. His brother's death had been slow, painful, and primitive. Netherlands blinked and for a second he saw the body and knew what it meant. Netherlands inhaled sharply and his throat tightened. He stepped back into Russia as fear struck him.

 _Number Five. Remember who you are._

Netherlands felt his heart rate slow when relief came over him. Gradually, all his emotions numbed and he stared at Luxembourg with indifference. He turned away and left him on the floor, taking his shirt with him. He found the switches for the alarms on the wall and he had Germany flick them all off. The three of them then left the house and closed the door behind them.

The dog whimpered to the side as they went down the steps, and he started to get up. They continued on to the car and when Perlutze realized they were leaving, he ran forward yipping. He was kicked away then they all jumped into the car that immediately sped away on the smooth pavement. Perlutze sprinted after the car for as long as he could until it left sight. Then he flopped in exhaustion, panting and resuming his vain whimpering.

* * *

"The dog," Netherlands explained to Hendrik, "will be found soon by people. He will lead them back to the house and they will find Luxembourg."

Netherlands was at Hendrik's house, dropping off Germany and Russia. They had planned to meet there after Netherlands had returned. Now he was relaying how it had went, but the soldier had questions.

"Why do you want him to be found so fast?"

Netherlands replied, "So I can put on a show."

"Show?"

"Tomorrow, I predict."

Netherlands walked away from him back to the front door. Hendrik followed him and they drove the very short drive back to Netherlands' place. Once back, Netherlands washed the knife then directed himself to the shower. It had been too long since he had cleaned up. He had driven the long drive back from Denmark and disposed of Sweden's body in the creek of a small forest; one so slow moving that the riverbed was a sucking mud that happily consumed the body entirely. Right after he had made it home, he was pressed to make up for the failed mission. He had been told to start smaller; he had been commanded to be rid of his final sibling.

He had grabbed a knife and tucked it into his sleeve, deciding to finish his brother like he had his sister. He drove to Luxembourg's lavish house, not getting the luxury of sleep that Germany and Russia did in the back seat. Now, he felt so exhausted and weighed down with so much filth. Even after the shower and brushing his teeth, he felt terrible. Rings cut under Netherlands' eyes and he was absolutely weak with fatigue. He groaned and stumbled into his room, clutching the back of his head as another headache befell him. He fitted himself in pajamas and collapsed on the bed.

He was starving, he realized, but now that he was down he was too weary to move. Netherlands pulled the blankets over himself and closed his eyes. As he felt as though he was sinking, he dimly became aware that he had drunk practically nothing in two days. His throat felt just slightly dry and painful. He knew it should have been worse, but he was finding recently that he could hardly feel anything. Smooth objects in his hand could not be felt. He had never felt the cuts he had received climbing up onto Denmark's roof; he had only seen them.

He thought, _I don't know if there's anything wrong with me. I can hardly feel a thing._

 _Number Five, you need to take care of yourself immediately._

"I'm too tired," he murmured.

 _Get up. Drink something. Eat first. You must be strong._

Netherlands felt obliged to obey. He sat up and shuffled to the kitchen. He put a shaking hand on the fridge door and opened it. He grabbed milk and drank straight from the carton, then he wandered to the counter, got a glass, and filled it with water. He chugged this then decided he could eat more later.

"You're going to sleep?"

Netherlands paused after hearing Hendrik's voice. For a moment, he became afraid when he heard his footsteps approaching, but when he tried to figure out why, he lost interest. It was not that Hendrik had drugged and made him into an organization's head assassin. There was something else about the Dutch soldier that had frightened him.

"Yes," he replied. "I am very tired."

He thought that Hendrik was staring at him strangely, but then he remembered his bed and he headed off towards it. Netherlands felt eyes on him the entire time until he had closed his bedroom door and isolated himself. He felt secure now even without chemicals calming his mind. Netherlands fell into his bed and this time did not even have the energy to cover himself with blankets. He simply fell asleep before he considered this at all.

* * *

Netherlands blinked when a beam of morning light shone over his face. He moved his hand up and rubbed the crud out from his eyes before he stretched. He checked the time and realized how long he had been sleeping. When he looked forward, he sat up with a gasp.

Hendrik was standing at the foot of his bed and the door Netherlands had closed before was now wide open. The soldier was staring at him, and Netherlands found something in his gaze that caused the terror to return. He felt uncomfortable lying over the blankets. While looking back at Hendrik, Netherlands moved under the blankets while asking lowly, "Why are you in here?"

"It is my job to watch over you."

"I believe the synonym was _guard_ , not _regard_ ," Netherlands replied. "I closed that door."

"And I am wondering why you closed it," the soldier said. "Don't you trust me, Sir?"

 _He is one of us. You must trust him. Without him, you cannot proceed with the mission. He is your cover. You do trust him. He is trustworthy._

"I do," he murmured.

Hendrik smiled slowly at him. Netherlands got up and padded past him on the way back to the kitchen. This time, he ate properly for the first time in a while. He felt better after, and awake enough to start continuing his plans. His soldier hung on the couch as Netherlands got out his laptop to check for messages and any new assignments. He was still caught up for work, he discovered, and no one had said anything to him. He did see however posts about the attack on Denmark's house, from Denmark himself.

 _WATCH OUT. There seems to be a FIFTH one! Tuesday night, Germany, Russia, Sweden, and someone else planned an organized attack on me, Finland, and Norway. This is no longer singular threats. They are working together now._

 _They took out all our soldiers too. My house got wrecked and now we're moving somewhere we hopefully won't be found._

 _I also managed to catch Sweden. I hit him in the head and that toxic stuff came right out. Almost got him fixed but they jumped in and took him back. I'm no surgeon but, I think that Switzerland can really be fixed if they just go for it and tap that vile! Let's not wait for Switzerland to escape custody like Germany and Russia did… Four out there is already scary enough._

Netherlands read the comments. Everyone was thanking Denmark for the warning and some were supporting the surgery on Switzerland to be conducted immediately, while others advised caution. Some, Netherlands was glad to see, were writing exactly what he had hoped they would believe.

France had written, _Could it be Belgium? She's been missing for over a week._

Spain had agreed, _It sounds like Belgium's that fifth one. No one knows where she is._

Netherlands felt satisfied. His concealment of her body was a useful advantage. Leaving Luxembourg to find would only strengthen the belief that Belgium had turned psychotic, for it would seem that if someone was dead, their body would always be found.

"Let them think Belgium and Sweden are alive," Netherlands said, "and I can move around much more freely."

Hendrik came up to the table and looked over the screen.

"You are really on a roll," the soldier commented, "despite the failure in Denmark, you're prepared for everything."

"I cannot get caught," Netherlands told him. "I am Number Five- the last one, correct?"

"In a way… No more projects are ready. If you fall, we have to create another perfect model. The issue is money now though. We had so much stockpiled in the beginning. It was easy to develop everything fast and it was also easy to install it with our multinational supporters to help."

Netherlands asked before filtered, "Is this why Number Three had to be terminated?"

"Yes," was the response. "We had no materials to fix him. But it is okay. Everyone is relying on you."

"I would send money," Netherlands mentioned, "but I don't want to get caught based on my transactions."

"We understand."

Netherlands asked, "There is a headquarters, isn't there?"

Nothing inside him was stopping him from wanting to know. It seemed that he was trusted enough to learn about these things. Hendrik easily replied, "Of course. Here, in the Netherlands. That is why you are the final, perfect model. Our own demon will command the others and bring an end to all the filth on Earth."

Fear crept up on him.

"Did you just call me a demon?" he exhaled with a quiver.

He gasped as pain flared up his spine. Instantly he fell back with blackening vision and a throbbing head. The fear was sucked away swiftly and when he opened his eyes again, his vision was as clear as his mind.

"I did," his soldier told him. "Because it is true. It is what you all are, even if you have forgotten it in all of your time in your vessels."

 _Ask him for more_ , the voice encouraged Netherlands. _You want to know more. It makes sense._

"Why do you believe this?" he asked calmly.

"There is no mention of nation personifications in any religious text in the world," Hendrik told him with full confidence. "You are immortal, staying young for centuries. You heal unnaturally fast and can take hits that would kill a regular man. Only one of you can kill another. If God intended for you to exist as a superior race, surely you would have been mentioned. But no… you aren't supposed to be here but you want everyone to believe that you are. So a long time ago, you arrived and took over the bodies of young children and you named yourselves as nations. Perhaps you all began to believe that you really were what you called yourselves."

Netherlands had confusion stir up within him, and it was allowed.

"That is not true," he said.

"You just don't remember. You would think this, but you have managed to convince even yourself that your name is the same as this country. But you are demons in reality, dark creatures who have fused themselves with their vessels. Always encouraging their leaders to fight, because you want to destroy and take. You cannot be angels. You are evil, sneaky filth crawling the land."

Netherlands was trying to formulate a counter argument. Hendrik was outlining things that even Netherlands could not explain. He did not know where he came from. In his memories, he just sort of _appeared_. He was there one day, not born, but existing. That was how everyone else knew it to be too. They had lived believing that if a nation was established, a personification would automatically be created, even though no one had known the reason why.

 _I don't know where I came from… Have I forgotten?_

The voice replied, _You have. You cannot explain your origin. You cannot explain your purpose. You know you live long past the normal lifespan of a human and that you can heal fast. That can not be scientifically explained. So, Number Five, what do you think you are?_

"I don't know," Netherlands murmured. "But…"

"But what?" Hendrik stared at him. "You have nothing to say, Five. You cannot argue because you are doubting everything that you have known. You realize that we are right. You cannot argue against us."

He wanted to say that they were not demons. He did not believe in demons and yet, he could not rationalize his own existence. He wanted to say that maybe they were some other form of supernatural creature, but Hendrik had made a point that they had been too malevolent to be angels or any good creature. From the Viking Era, the Middle Ages, and the World Wars, they were proved to not be perfect beings.

"But we have attachments," Netherlands finally said. "We can love. We have pets and family."

"Loyalty to other demons for the sake of survival," Hendrik replied. "And your pets? Well, don't they live as long as you do?"

Netherlands felt dizzy. He thought of his rabbit, how old she was, and wondered, _Is she a familiar?_

"And, Sir," Hendrik continued. "You are fully conscious. We influence you, but you are still doing everything on your own. You killed your family because you found out that deep inside, you do not care."

 _It is true. You can fight against our influence, but you do not._

Netherlands thought groggily, _No… That's not true…_

 _You are a demon._

The soldier said, "But you can be forgiven. You must help us be rid of the other filth in the world. You have been chosen to be cleansed, but the others must be eradicated."

 _Kill them all. They are evil. Dirty. You are becoming clean. You are perfect. One of us. Fire and Brimstone- we are God's wrath and we bring just punishment to those damned._

The headache and spine pain returned. Netherlands yelped before he received a sharp rush that made him feel determined for something. He grasped onto the words he was being told, then rage burst as an inferno inside him.

 _Yes. You will kill them all. You will lead Number One and Number Two and slaughter the demons._

Netherlands nodded. _I will do this._

 _Because you want to._

 _I do_ , he thought.

 _Never forget the mission. Continue as you were, Number Five._

He remembered in a flash his plan with Luxembourg's dog and what he was doing now. That utter focus arrived to him, like it did whenever he had to do his work.

Netherlands found Denmark's contact. He began to write to him.

 _Hey. I feel as though we have been misunderstanding each other and I think we should talk. I heard that you were attacked… Are you all alright? Was anyone hurt?_

He left it as that for now. He was not sure how long it would take for Denmark to respond; it depended on whether he had gotten to his new house yet or not. In the meantime, Netherlands left his computer and now that he was feeling better, decided that he could take Germany and Russia out for training.

"Take us back to the forest today, Hendrik," Netherlands told him once in they were in the car.

They gathered Russia and Germany, and Netherlands inspected the weapons they had attained before putting them into a bag and placing it into the trunk. Once far from people, he shouldered the bag and led them down the trail until they came to a clearing. There, Netherlands strung up a shirt on the low branches of a tree then gave Russia and Germany bows and quivers while taking his own.

"We cannot miss," Netherlands muttered as he loaded his bow. "We have to be fast and silent. Guns alert neighbours and so do screams."

He glared coldly as he spoke. He nailed the shirt, then Germany and Russia did as well. They then trained for more precise objects, trying to catch leaves, thin branches, and mushrooms. They switched to javelins after, although their accuracy needed to be improved.

"But," Netherlands said, "the biggest problem is when they run. You have to catch them before they can get help."

Russia and Germany stared at him silently with their fake eyes. Netherlands knew that they could not really hear him, and that he was talking to whoever were in charge of controlling them. He had to tell them essentially, what he wanted the bodies to do. They had to create the right emotions that would motivate the barely conscious nations to do anything.

"So catch me."

Netherlands sprinted away and got a few seconds of a head start before the other two reacted. The soldier stayed behind gathering up their weapons as Netherlands escaped the clearing and dove into the forest, instantly dodging trees and trying to be unpredictable. He heard the crashing and snaps of branches as Germany and Russia plowed through them. They were much heavier than he was, so he tried to be more nimble, taking sharp turns and leaping between the narrow gaps of adjacent trees that they would have to go around.

Netherlands spied Russia going off on an angle. He knew he was trying to get back onto the path so that he could run faster. Netherlands tore off to the side, trying to get there as he did. Netherlands was a bit late so when he leapt out onto the path Russia was practically upon him. He saw Russia's face enraged, and it struck him that at this part of the drill both Russia and Germany truly wanted to kill him.

Netherlands did not become afraid. This was as realistic of a simulation for them as it could get for they were truly giving it their all. He ducked away from Russia's extended hands as he dove into the forest on the other side of the path and ran horizontally. He was beginning a loop back to the clearing. Russia burst through bushes after him and Germany raced to catch up. Netherlands was just beginning to put distance between himself and them again now that he was in the forest, but then he was back to their starting point.

When the trees were gone, Germany and Russia broke out into a ferocious charge. Netherlands whipped his head over his shoulder in surprise when they were suddenly right up behind him. He had not known they could be so fast. He gasped when Russia grabbed the back of his shirt and yanked him backwards.

Netherlands crashed onto his back onto the grass. Russia's face was automatically above his, the gaping socket and his robotic eye huge while his teeth were bared in a vicious snarl. Germany slammed down on Netherlands' legs and Russia pressed his biceps down firmly into the ground with one hand and a knee. Russia's free hand shot out to his throat and squeezed for a moment before a change happened.

The muscles in both their faces relaxed. Germany and Russia got off him and stood. Netherlands sat up and the three of them respired deeply after their full-out sprint.

"Good," Netherlands breathed. "You were very fast."

Once they were ready, they practiced combat. However, because of the ruthless demeanor of the other two, it was essentially real combat and Netherlands had to full-heartedly defend himself. It became obvious quickly that he was the one who was going to learn the most. Germany and Russia, powerful countries, were stronger than him. Netherlands was thrown to the ground again and again, snatched, and choked until Germany and Russia were mentally called off him each time.

Germany backed away and Netherlands peeled himself off the grass, feeling covered in bruises.

 _Keep fighting. You must improve. When the time comes for a fight, you cannot fail._

Netherlands sprang at Germany and managed a hit before he was kneed in the stomach. Russia watched as Germany hurled Netherlands and his eye followed him as he crashed into the tree they had earlier used for target practice. Hendrik was there, and he stepped away with the bag as Germany charged forward.

Netherlands thought, _I cannot expect to be stronger than him. I need to practice focus and craftiness in fighting instead._

 _That's right_ , the voice agreed. P _erfect._

Netherlands leaped up and snatched a dead branch. He hung from it and it promptly broke under his weight. He whacked Germany in the leg with it, momentarily incapacitating him so that he could hop back and break the branch over his knee. Two sharp-ended halves were produced. When Germany rushed him, Netherlands zipped around the tree and met him as he was turning around. He hit his face with the blunt end of a branch then struck his ankle.

When Germany collapsed, Netherlands pressed the tips of both branches against the side of his throat. The fight was now officially over. Russia was silent, but Hendrik clapped from beside him. Netherlands dropped the sticks and swept his sleeve over his sweaty brow then left Germany to get up on his own.

"That'll do for today," Netherlands sighed. They had been fighting for the most of their training, and now not only was he hungry and tired, but he hurt all over. His sense of feeling was dimmed, so he knew that if he felt this destroyed, then he must have accidentally attained injuries.

They put Germany and Russia back in Hendrik's house as though they were animals being returned to their enclosure. Then, Netherlands dragged himself into his house and went to his computer before anything else. He opened it and discovered that Denmark had replied a curt, _Any reason you care?_

Netherlands responded to the rude answer, _I'm sorry._

He showered and changed before eating. In the bathroom, he had found his chest and back spotted with dark bruises and there were tons of scratches on his legs and arms. His clothes were cut in some places, but he had them washed before he would have them sewed later. He got himself something to eat and drink then he was back at the computer.

Denmark seemed to be online sitting at his computer, because he had already answered.

 _What do you mean, you're sorry?_

That was all he had written. Netherlands replied, _I didn't mean to intrude. I was just worried like everyone else, but I guess it's different because I'm asking._

Denmark wrote, _We're all fine._

Netherlands typed, _Did you see my sister? Was it her?_

He waited for Denmark to remember her disappearance and her relation to him. He would remember his first accusation of him, then he would feel guilt for being harsh when Netherlands was "missing" someone important. Denmark would believe that he was saddened by her loss, if the way he had been responding indicated those feelings.

 _No… I never saw the other person._

Another message from Denmark.

 _You okay over there? You're not really in a good spot, are you? You should probably move like we did._

Netherlands replied, _Thinking about it, but I don't think it will do any good if I get the interest of the police. I'll probably just get followed anyway._

Denmark asked, _Why don't you move in with someone?_

 _Who?_ Netherlands replied. _Luxembourg? I mean he's got a big house, but that's not a far enough move to be safe. Also, two makes us more likely to be targeted._

Denmark said, _You both should go to France or Spain. A lot of people would make them reconsider attacking you, I think. I mean, no one's even touched the Baltics yet. France, Austria, and Liechtenstein are living together. Five isn't too many if you help with the living costs._

He replied, _I can ask, but they don't trust me, I'm sure. No one does._

Netherlands was trying to press Denmark again into guilt. It succeeded.

 _Don't be so pessimistic. I'm sorry for yelling at you and all that, but it's not that anyone hates you. I don't think anyone's really looking your way anymore because now you got your soldier vouching for you._

Netherlands wrote, _I don't believe anyone truly thinks I'm innocent. Even when German soldiers were revealed to be terrorists and people in Russia helped break him out, they still look at me. Why don't people realize that there are supporters from more than just my country?_

He hoped Denmark would realize the truth in this statement. He was not lying. There were people who supported the cause all over Europe. There was no particular reason to believe that the Netherlands was the origin, even if it was in reality.

 _Yeah, I am really sorry about this_ , Denmark told him. _I've been so rude to you. I can't imagine how you feel right now._

Netherlands knew the setup was close.

 _It is lonely._

Denmark typed, _Do you want to talk or something?_

 _What do you mean?_

The reply was, _We can Skype for a bit if you want. Norway's right behind me telling me to do it and apologize properly and Finland wants to see how you are too._

"Hendrik." Netherlands snapped his head in his direction. "I need Number One and Two."

"Huh? Now?"

"For the show I mentioned earlier," Netherlands said. "I am going to Skype the Nordics. This is the chance to utterly clear myself of suspicion…"

Netherlands quickly explained what needed to be done before he tapped at his keyboard, _Sure, just give me ten minutes. I just finished lunch so I have to clean up. I'll call you._

* * *

"It shouldn't take too long," Denmark told the two at his sides. "I mean, he's not usually the type to stick around and talk for long about anything other than business."

They waited until the pop-up appeared on the screen that Netherlands was calling them. Denmark picked up instantaneously and the video opened up of Netherlands sitting alone. He was at the end of the table and the rest of the room could be seen warm from sunlight. The others got a good look at the perfect cleanliness of his house, although that was not what Netherlands was wanting to show them.

"Hey," Denmark said immediately after catching sight of him. "What's up?"

"Nothing really," he replied easily. "Just work."

The call was holding well. _They have a good connection_ , Netherlands deduced. _They are not in an isolated area and they are probably close. They might still be in Denmark._

Finland asked, "Didn't you have a guard? Where is he?"

"He went to check on his house. He'll be back shortly."

"Oh."

Denmark spoke up, "Why do you have a guard anyway? They haven't been useful to anyone so far. We are so strong and experienced that the psychos have no problem taking them out."

"I don't need him to protect me," Netherlands replied. "His presence proves my innocence."

A silence that Netherlands had expected followed- an awkward one for the Nordics and Denmark especially.

"But seriously…" Denmark started. "I am really sorry for coming over to your house and screaming at you. I said some rude things, I know… I hope you can forgive me."

Netherlands closed his eyes and nodded slowly. He replied, "I can, because I know how stressful it has been recently. You are still grieving for Iceland and that made you a bit irrational. I understand."

"No, no, I should have used this"-Denmark tapped the side of his head- "I just blamed you automatically instead of thinking that there is maybe an organization in your country that you are totally unaware of."

Norway said, "But we know now that it could be any European country, because of that point you made. It might have originated from Germany, Switzerland, Russia, or Denmark… we can't say for certain yet."

"Central to East Europe," Netherlands pretended to affirm. "I think it's somewhere there."

Another pause.

"Let me just say, I don't think you are involved at all anymore," Denmark told him. "There's no proof."

Netherlands thought, _You say this, but I know there is still be doubt in you and everyone else._

"That means a lot." Netherlands bowed his head.

 _Now is the time_ , he thought. _Bring them._

Seconds later, the three Nordics were startled by a huge crash on the other side of the call. Netherlands' eyes shot open as did his eyebrows before he snapped his head to the side in the direction of the noise.

They stared at the screen as Netherlands rose cautiously from his chair. When another crash emanated, they heard him inhale sharply and jolt. Netherlands looked frantically around himself but stopped his search when pounding feet were heard incoming. Netherlands whirled around with a scream and the Nordics cried out when Germany burst onto the scene wearing black clothes and the telltale skull mask while holding two knives.

Netherlands yelped and put up his arms to cover his face as he scrambled backwards. The knives stabbed his arms and Netherlands hollered. It was true pain. This time he could feel it. Netherlands did not need to pretend to scream as he was thrown against the window and Germany's knives jabbed into him. One sunk into the muscle beside his neck while the other went right into his oblique. Netherlands could hear the Nordics screaming in horror as he crumpled with the knives sticking out of him. He flashed his eyes up to the screen and saw their horrified faces as they shouted, then he saw himself in the corner, bleeding heavily from his wounds.

Germany dove for him. Netherlands yanked the knife from his shoulder and dodged him. He jumped to his feet and held out the knife. Germany stared at him and the weapon, but he did not need to decide whether to attack, for Russia burst into the room also masked and in black.

"No!" Netherlands boomed. He backed away, crumpling unintentionally but gladdened because it added to the show. He turned to point the knife from Germany to Russia.

Russia also had knives. He threw one at Netherlands and the Nordics panicked when it lodged itself into Netherlands' thigh and he fell. He dropped his knife as he clutched the impaled muscle with his face scrunched up. Russia swiped the knife at his eyes and Netherlands turned his head in time so that only a clean, deep cut went right across his cheek. Germany and Russia pounced on his fallen form and his screams went shrill as they pulled the knives out from him then stabbed and sliced him.

He knew that they were only demonstrating half of their usual enthusiasm, but they were still aiming for vitals. They were giving him enough time at least so that he could roll and block with his limbs. The side of his leg was stabbed and his biceps tore. Germany got a knife between his ribs on one occasion, but it did not go far. Germany had been stopped before he could insert it further.

Those watching did not see the difference, however. They saw Netherlands writhing on the floor screeching as Russia and Germany attacked him. They believed entirely that Netherlands was being assassinated and that he was going to be killed right in front of their eyes.

Their hopes were raised when Netherlands kicked them both in the face simultaneously and skittered away. He stumbled on his grossly bleeding legs, then he tore off. Netherlands disappeared off screen and Germany and Russia gave chase. They heard the outer door slam and Netherlands yelling outside.

Although out of view, Netherlands knew that they had not hung up. He screamed, "Help!" after he watched Hendrik ushering Russia and Germany into the car. Netherlands then pulled himself slowly into his tree and draped himself over the branches, his blood dripping down like rain onto the ground.

Netherlands stopped yelling for aid now. He hung in his tree, too weakened to cry out anymore. Eventually his neighbours exited their houses, too filled with cautious curiosity to stay in. They found him limply set in the tree and they instantly reacted. A few called for aid simultaneously while others raced to the tree.

Hendrik pulled in at this time. He hollered, " _Move_!" and shoved past the people. He stood up on his toes with his arms raised, and Netherlands leaned down his upper body. He dropped down into him, smearing blood all over his front upon impact. By now, he had lost enough blood that he ceased moving. Hendrik set him down and began pressing down on his worst wounds until the ambulance arrived.

He was loaded into the back of the ambulance. There, he closed his eyes and entered a conversation in his head.

 _Stay awake, Five._

Netherlands thought back, _I know._

 _They were hard to control. You sustained serious injuries._

 _I know!_ he growled back. _But I'll get through this._

 _This was your idea. Do not die._

 _I won't_ , he replied in his mind.

 _This was a bad idea._

 _No it was not, because now the Nordics will tell the world what happened. No one will suspect me ever again. I have their pity now and today I managed to get closer to the Nordics. With patience, I will eventually get them to tell me their location. This is all part of the plan._

 _You will have to take the time to heal._

 _Until then_ , he thought, _Russia and Germany can attack someone else and two of you guys should help. It would be suspicious if no attacks happened while I was recovering._

 _Attack where?_

He responded, _Get them to Asia somehow. Catch someone by surprise. Also, if all the European nations die but me, it looks suspicious. We need to spread out. I can help again later._

 _It will be arranged, Number Five._

* * *

In the hospital bed, Hendrik passed him his computer. Netherlands opened it and saw that the Skype call had been dropped hours ago. It must have been accidental however, for there was a mass of messages from Denmark asking constantly if he was alive and begging for a response.

Netherlands went straight for the Skype call. He expected that they had been waiting for a reply, and he was proven right. They picked up instantly.

"Holy shit!" Denmark cried while Norway and Finland wordlessly exclaimed.

"Hey," Netherlands murmured.

"You're alive!" he gasped.

Netherlands laughed without humor. He said, "Yeah, barely. I climbed a tree then those brutes ran off before they would get caught."

"We thought you were done for," Norway muttered.

"I wanted to contact you as soon as possible before anything else," Netherlands said. "You know, because you were left on a cliffhanger. I haven't even told Luxembourg I'm alright. Did you tell him I was attacked?"

The faces of the Nordics flashed into horror. Netherlands knew exactly why instantly.

"Oh my god, he doesn't know!" Finland looked to the other two.

Netherlands feigned terror.

"What?" he demanded as he sat up. He did it too fast on purpose, and the pain on his face was real.

The Nordics flinched, then stared at each other waiting for the first to speak up. Norway and Finland focused on Denmark, who protested, "I can't tell him!"

Norway sighed, then looked into Netherlands' eyes through the camera.

"They found Luxembourg an hour and a bit ago, deceased in his house."

Netherlands made sure to stretch open his eyes very wide before he collapsed back into his bed. It hurt him again, but he carried on with his acting. He threw his hands over his eyes and let out a sob. He whined behind his fingers, "No- tell me that isn't true, please! No…"

"It is true…" Norway murmured. "I'm sorry."

Denmark and Finland looked away. Netherlands managed to squeeze tears out from his eyes as he whimpered, "How long ago?"

"Recently," Norway answered him. "Apparently his dog led some people back to the house and they, well, found him…"

 _Wonderful timing_ , he thought as he continued to fake-cry.

Netherlands choked out into his hands, "No, no, not him… not my little brother…"

After he said those words, there were a few seconds where the truth pierced his heart.

 _I killed them! Belgium and Luxembourg-_

 _Don't say a word, Five!_

Netherlands began to truly cry. Tears rushed from his eyes and he sobbed loudly, barely in control of his own breathing. Then the headache came and the sorrow began to slip away.

 _Focus._

Netherlands revealed his face to the screen. He saw himself now, with soaked cheeks and red vines under his skin. He shivered as he stared at the bandage patched over the cut on his cheek.

Before he was stopped, he whispered, " _They're all dead_ …"

Then the pain in his spine returned. He gasped and his mind emptied for a moment. When the pain faded, he was reestablished.

"I don't think Belgium is dead," Finland told him. "You read what Denmark wrote- you saw the comments."

"Belgium is with them," Denmark agreed. "She's alive."

Netherlands looked down with two fresh tears dripping off his face.

"Oh please," he murmured. "I hope she is. I couldn't… bear it."

This was how it went on. The Nordics became twisted in concern as they looked over Netherlands as he lost his composure. They were shocked to see him crying and so hurt in ways more than physical.

"We'll catch her," Finland said, "and fix her. It will be okay."

"But I will never get my brother back," Netherlands whispered. "He's… gone forever."

He reveled in the discomfort he put the others in. He continued to pretend to grieve for their sake and he kept his acting realistic until the end of the call. By that point both sides seemed to be upset and nothing could be done about it.

Unsure of what to say, Denmark told him softly as his farewell, "Stay safe."

When it was over, Netherlands wiped away his tears as a feeling of pride arrived. Hendrik came closer now that only they could be heard talking in the room.

"You almost had me fooled," Hendrik finally told him. "I was starting to believe that you were out of control. That's how good your acting was."

"I am fine," Netherlands replied. "As always: perfect. Everything went to plan."

"Naturally." A too-wide grin spread across the Dutch soldier's face.

When he saw the smile, he felt the old fear fill him again. It baffled him. He was still struggling to grasp the reason for the appearance of fear in his guard's presence. Every time he questioned it, his emotions were tampered with until he longer cared at all and that fear floated away to be forgotten yet again.

Before that happened, he was able to realize that what he sensed was something bad that was going to befall him. The soldier, despite what he was always forced to believe, was not to be trusted.


	10. Chapter 10

A few nations attended Luxembourg's funeral. France had brought Austria and Liechtenstein, and Spain and Portugal had showed up as well. The other nearby nations messaged Netherlands apologies, saying that they were simply too afraid to venture. The Nordics gave him lengthy condolences, but as expected, they stayed where they were.

So with his soldier beside him, Netherlands cried silently in front of the grave with a faint, visible trembling of his frame. It was all for show again; the ability to cry crocodile tears was coming easier to him. During this time he felt no grief. In the cruel irony that overwhelmed the funeral, he only felt the usual massive headache that forced away all unwanted emotions.

He was showered in pity and comfort. He hardly spoke and it concerned everyone else. To them, he knew that he would look wretched with his red eyes that were ringed deep, ungelled hair, and a body covered in bandages. They no longer ignored him as they had online. That day they spoke to him softly and kindly, and he went around taking hugs and crying weakly over shoulders.

Netherlands knew he had won. All traces of suspicion were officially off him thanks to everything he had meticulously planned in his mind and carried out. Now he could feel freer to participate in the mission physically, once he had recovered from his wounds. After all, he could wait the week or more that it would take to be strong again. There was no particular rush.

Before he left, he told them that his rabbit had escaped his house when Germany and Russia had attacked him. They gave him more pity, then with the subject of pets on the go, they remembered Perlutze. Netherlands knew that they would think of him. He was ready when France asked, "Are you taking care of your brother's dog?"

"No," Netherlands murmured in reply. "I have so much to do, I couldn't possibly and… I don't want to be constantly reminded of him. But I contacted his boss and he said that he could take him in."

Part of what he had said was true. He did have a lot to do, just not what everyone else would believe. He had also called Luxembourg's boss, who had truly accepted to give Perlutze a home. Netherlands did this because the dog, the witness to the murder, could not be seen acting strange in his presence.

Then he acted more like his normal self would have, asking about business and wondering if they could ship him goods to sell. This seemed to ease them as they all walked out of the cemetery at his slow pace. He knew they had wanted to see him better, back on the tracks of his money-obsessed personality. They immediately and gladly conversed with him about this until Netherlands carefully set himself into the passenger seat of his car and was driven away.

On the drive, Netherlands commented, "I think I am bleeding a bit."

He lifted his shirt and held the end between his teeth as he looked down at his stomach. Sure enough, he could see red soaking through the white. He also checked the deep wound on his shoulder and found that the day's activity had also caused this one to bleed as well.

Hendrik glanced at him for a few long seconds then back at the road. He said nothing to him. Netherlands sat forward slightly and asked, "Why are you so quiet today?"

"I am just thinking," he replied.

"About what?"

"Oh, about everything you've accomplished. That's all."

Netherlands had the tingling impression that the soldier was not being honest.

 _You do not trust him?_ the voice challenged him.

 _These are my instincts_ , he thought back. _Don't shut them off. It is for the better of the mission if you let me be wary of things, even him._

 _Not of him. You are not allowed to distrust him._

Netherlands lost interest in the matter after he was told this. Fear and suspicion dropped away as they walked back into what was now to be his home: Hendrik's house. Netherlands left Hendrik and went on ahead to the living room where all his bandages had been stockpiled. He sat down on the floor and stretched out his legs. He carefully removed the bloody bandage over his thigh and wrapped it with something fresh. Everything else on his legs and arms were fine, so he proceeded to pull off his shirt.

Netherlands was in the midst of preparing another bandage for himself. He did not notice how close the soldier had crept up to him for Hendrik had moved silently and Netherlands had been looking down. He was startled when Hendrik whispered by his ear, "Let me help you with that."

He mindlessly agreed. Hendrik sat down behind him and moved closer. He unraveled the bandage and took the fresh one Netherlands handed him. He very slowly wrapped it around the wounds all over his abdomen, every touch lingering for just a little too long. Netherlands' hairs raised, but his emotions were stifled enough that he said nothing and did not think too much about it.

"Where else?" Hendrik whispered again.

"Whatever looks red," Netherlands rumbled back.

Netherlands passed him everything. He sat still as the other bandages damp with blood were removed and replaced. Hendrik soothed his hands over every completed change, gliding over the bandages and a bit of skin before he lifted his fingers. He shifted closer to Netherlands. He set his chin over his uninjured shoulder and murmured, "How's that?"

Netherlands stood up abruptly and walked away, beginning to put his shirt back on. A small sense of relief came to him to have escaped the soldier's touch, but then it shattered when his wrist was snatched. He gasped as Hendrik muttered in a low voice that Netherlands had never heard from him before, "You should be thankful when I am kind."

It spooked him. He tried to wrench his hand free, but the grip tightened.

"I am," he replied quickly as his heart rate increased.

"You know," Hendrik growled, "no one ever said that I have to be _nice_ to you."

Netherlands became all too aware of his physical condition. He was covered in injuries and weak. Growing more concerned, he said, "Let go of me."

The soldier pulled him sharply. Netherlands stumbled into him and his other wrist was caught. He hissed automatically, "What are you doing?"

Hendrik smashed his face into his, aggressively attacking it with his lips. Netherlands panicked and tried to pull away. They were swung around and when Netherlands scrambled backwards, he fell back into the couch. His arms were pulled apart and he struggled to breathe. He turned his head away then snarled, "Get the hell off me! I'll-"

"What?" Hendrik stopped and fixed him with a rabid glare. "Kill me? You can't. You can't even touch me. Without me, you have no protection. You would fail the mission if I wasn't around."

Netherlands glared back then shot open his eyes as his lips were captured again. He managed to bite him this time and draw blood. Hendrik promptly jammed his finger into the wound on his shoulder and Netherlands cried out.

"I can do anything to you," he spat, "and you can't do a single thing about it. No one can help you. I choose whether to treat you well or as an object, because to our organization, you are one. You are property and right now you are _my_ property."

"No!" Netherlands gasped. "Don't do this!"

Netherlands' fear heightened rapidly. He struggled despite his damaged muscles until Hendrik uttered, "Subdue him."

 _Number Five is out of control_ , the voice said, although Netherlands was now sure it was only the commanding person talking to someone else. _I have to increase components majorly._

A second later his spine and head were seized with incredible pain. Netherlands yelled again although he fought to hang onto his fear. His real emotions- such things he could never grasp for long anymore. He thought frantically, _Don't do this. You know what he is going to do to me! Why are you letting him do this?_

He had not spoken out loud, but the soldier nipped his ear and told him, "I can cleanse you, Number Five."

The pain in his head and spine amplified. His vision began to blur as he felt displaced. All of Netherlands' emotions were snatched away and he could no longer resist. He had lost the ability to care. He was still aware of everything that progressed, but at the time he could no longer feel anything at all.

* * *

He was crying.

The water that cascaded from the shower head ran over his skin, soaking his bandages, but he was beyond caring. Netherlands was so full of nothingness that he was going through his routine. Like after he had gone and completed a kill, he came here to wash all the filth away. Yet, something inside him was not overpowered. He was still left in a quiver and he stared forward with huge eyes that spilled constant tears as he washed himself over and over again.

At one point all he could do was lean against the wall and sob silently. He did not quite understand it, why he was crying when he felt such little sadness. So many chemicals were in him, taking over his mind, but nevertheless this escaped him. When he finally pulled himself out from the shower, he dropped over the sink and cried over it. One-by-one, tears splattered on the marble as he mouthed the names of his siblings repeatedly.

 _Belgium… Luxembourg…_

 _They are demon filth. Do not concern yourself with them._

"Shut up!" Netherlands choked.

 _Stop resisting us._

"I don't want a part of this." Netherlands collapsed over the counter, dropping his warm face into one hand.

 _You must be running low. You must have maintenance done in order to get you back to how you were._

Netherlands squeezed his eyes closed and screamed, " _Get the fuck out of my head_!"

The headache and spine pain were disappearing. His mind was lifting from its stiff haze, causing him to cry more.

"You all are sick," he sobbed. "You made me… you made me kill my whole family! Why, oh my god…"

He began to sob harder until he felt as though he was choking on his own tongue. He remembered in a flash executing Sweden and he wailed. The memory was utterly vivid. He could see how Sweden's head opened and he could still remember the feel of hot gore spraying his face. Netherlands promptly turned and vomited into the sink.

 _We have extra components prepared. You will be taken to headquarters._

"No!" he screeched. " _No_!"

He lunged for the door. He unlocked it and dove straight into Hendrik. Netherlands fought madly and escaped the hands that tried to secure him. He tripped once but got up instantly despite all the cuts that were now ripping open over his body. Cuts and stab wounds that he could now fully feel. Netherlands crashed into the table, dripping blood from his soaked bandages. He snatched his cell phone, was frantically unlocking it, when hands snatched his waist.

The soldier threw him down and yanked the phone from his grasp before tossing it away. Netherlands panicked as he was dragged back to his feet and his arms were locked.

"We are leaving immediately!" Hendrik called.

Netherlands squirmed to escape. He shrieked, "You are a twisted, religious piece of shit!" Blood burst from his barely scabbed wounds. "You murderous, sexual monster! You call us demons? You fit the very definition of the word!"

"You are ignorant," Hendrik hissed. "You don't understand a thing!"

"You are insane! Nothing you say makes sense!"

Hendrik held both his wrists behind his back with one hand and he choked Netherlands with the other. He took him to the kitchen and whipped him to the floor. Netherlands hollered in pain and was stunned for a few seconds, rasping for breath. He heard clanging on the counter then water running. He tried to make it to his feet but soon Hendrik snatched his neck and squeezed again. Netherlands was dragged up to the fridge and pressed against it until his face went a deep shade of red.

When he was released, a glass was forced against his lips. Netherlands tried to inhale but water was poured down his throat and he spluttered. He breathed through his nose until it was held and the water filled his mouth. He refused to swallow until the burn in his lungs was unbearable and his thoughts became lethargic. Eventually he swallowed it all and gasped desperately for air.

Hendrik flashed his eyes over his naked body then back to his face. He muttered, "This won't happen again, Five. From now on you're getting maintenance done every week."

"No," Netherlands whispered as he felt himself rapidly becoming drowsy. "Don't make me do anything again. Please…. please, I beg you… anything..."

All he received was a callus smile. Netherlands' head fell to the side and he noticed then one of his flower pots in the corner. He had completely forgotten about his tulips but now he remembered them. Not that it mattered anymore, for it was too late to do anything for them.

Before the final moments of his terrified sanity came to an end, he had seen that the flowers were all dead.

* * *

"What?" Turkey exclaimed when he had first laid his eyes upon America's post. "Does he honestly expect everyone to go to that?"

He scrolled down and continued reading. What followed next was more comforting, but he was nonetheless, uncomfortable by the idea. Unsure of what decision to make, he sought out a second opinion and he called Greece.

"Hey, have you read about what America wants us to do?" Turkey immediately leapt into the subject.

"Yeah," Greece replied, knowing in an instant whom he was speaking to. "I just saw it. He-"

Turkey burst out, "He wants us to have a meeting and discuss the problem! Isn't that just ridiculous?"

"Maybe," Greece spoke slowly as he pondered, "but I can see why he wants to do it. After all, everyone's been trying their own thing and are only failing. Five of us are dead and so many others have barely escaped death too."

"So you're thinking of going, then?"

He replied, "It seems like a good idea, only because NATO is going to secure an area for us. He did write that they would block off and arm the streets around the building with one hundred soldiers and have people watching radar for incoming aircraft."

Turkey nodded to himself. "He mentioned getting a bomb squad just in case and having the building checked thoroughly beforehand."

"It will be fine, I think," Greece murmured.

"It just sounds so risky, putting us all together!" Turkey protested.

"Yes, but, it is optional. You don't have to come if you don't want to."

"If you go, could you tell me the plan?" Turkey asked. "I still don't want to miss that!"

"If we come up with something," Greece sighed. "You know how our meetings sometimes go."

"But you are certain? You are going?"

"Might as well. And you're not?"

Turkey said, "No… I'd rather stay here."

"Suit yourself."

"You trying to imply something?"

"No."

Turkey argued, "Hey, if you think that I'm just saying no like I'm some kind of coward, let me tell you-"

Greece hung up. Turkey exhaled and put down his phone, his short-lived anger already cooling.

"They better not all get killed," he grumbled.

He wandered over to another table, scratching at the facial hair on his chin. Turkey felt rather secure where he was in the world, so far from the uproar in West Europe. He had a cluster of other countries between him and the danger. The last recorded attack was on Netherlands less than a week ago. If they were on their way to him, he would hear it first from every country they would assault on the way to the East. Czech could be next and perhaps Slovakia, then likely Ukraine, Moldova, Romania, and Bulgaria, before they would target either him, Greece, or the other Balkan countries just a bit to the West.

Turkey thought like many others did that the Baltic house was the upcoming target, thus right now he was sure that he had plenty of time to get in gear and protect himself.

 _I am safe here. There's no way I'm just going to get up and go to France for a meeting that might turn out to be pointless!_

Turkey made himself a cup of coffee then carried it to a window. He opened it and rested the arm holding the cup on the ledge. He took a sip, sighed, then an arrow struck him in the throat. He could not scream. The mug fell over the ledge and shattered on the ground as he collapsed. He lay on the floor for an excruciating half-minute, trying to remove the arrow but only succeeding in breaking it and drenching his hands in hot wetness. Eventually a white and black face appeared at the window and he stared at it in shocked horror as he sat up.

Turkey wanted to talk, but he could only mouth his terrified blubber and back away. A loaded bow popped up and fired before he could dodge it. An arrow sank into his forehead and he fell back down onto his side. The third arrow sank through his eyeball and embedded itself into his brain.

The second figure came up to the side of the first and together, they fired arrow after arrow into him. Turkey went limp once he easily resembled a pin cushion. Germany slid through the window and walked up to him. He checked for vital signs, found none, then turned around and exited the way he had come in.

Russia and Germany crept away from the house and returned to the black-windowed vehicle that was parked in the currently vacant driveway next door. Once they were enclosed, it pulled away and calmly left as though it had all the time in the world. Turkey was abandoned entirely, left as a surprise for whoever would try to find him later.

* * *

Fire and Brimstone did not appear like the mental image Netherlands had created after hearing of the name. He had expected dark halls that were cracked and leaking unknown substances, locked rooms where occasionally screams emanated from, and tall scientists behind towering, faded lab coats. Netherlands was therefore surprised when he lifted his head and was nearly blinded by the shine of the silver and white-surfaced room. He saw polished boots thump across the floor then his head was raised and a light was shined into his eyes.

"He is awake," announced a voice thick with a Slavic accent.

Netherlands felt incredibly fatigued, stuck slouched on a metal operating table for the moment. He was aware of the dry, fresh bandages wrapped around the injuries that did not hurt so much anymore. He could also feel the clothes he had been fitted into. They were familiar as well; they were undoubtedly his.

He let his head flop onto his shoulder as he took a look around. Everything that he saw was in a strict state of cleanliness: the floor, walls, tables, counters, and tools. He saw quite a few people wandering around the room, sanitizing the equipment and putting them away. Not one of them wore a mask like what he was used to seeing on them. He saw their faces now and it came to him as a sense of reality. They were not just a force. They were individuals, every one of them.

He tried to get up to escape, but it had been like the last time Hendrik had drugged him. His legs failed him and he dropped but he was caught instantly and set back on the operating table. Netherlands' vision of people moving blurred for a second as he mumbled, "We are not demons… St-stop doing this..."

Only one looked over at him with a glare. The others observed him in confusion and Netherlands realized that they had not understood the Dutch he had spoken. He was about to repeat himself in English but then he twitched as he heard in his mind, _Number Five, rebooting._

He went rigid as the usual rush of chemicals flooding him occurred. It took hardly any time before his fright and will to resist were gone and he was as sharp as he had been on the first day of his infection.

He was posed one question.

 _What is your purpose?_

Netherlands thought in a heartbeat, _To eradicate the world of the nations._

 _Excellent. You may go back with the guard._

Those in the room watched him until he raised his head up straight and made the sign of the cross. Netherlands got up this time and he left the room unchallenged. He was given directions in order to navigate the building himself and all those he passed in the hall respectfully moved out of his way.

 _This place is so large_ , he thought.

 _It used to be a business cooperation, since run out of money. We have been bringing in equipment and qualified people for over a decade here._

Netherlands asked, _Where do you get the money?_

 _The Dutch supporters have jobs here, but regarding everyone else, their relatives donate to us. Not to mention the main donations we get from our churches._

As he spotted the front door and headed towards it, he thought, _So you run your own churches. Is this where the followers come from?_

 _We started small a long time ago and have since spread to new locations in different European countries. By word of mouth as well, we have received new members of our churches- those who are truly the most dedicated to the Bible._

 _And you developed the technology here once you had enough money_ , he summarized.

 _Yes, although we have since run out of the technology. We have only the components now- those chemicals that we had to refill in you. We have a lot left, especially now that Number Three and Four have been lost to us._

"What do you mean, Four is lost to us?" Netherlands demanded. "Are we not going to try to get him back?"

 _1:33 p.m. today, Number Four went offline._

"Is he dead?"

 _The trigger response was not activated. The surgery done on him was… successful._

"You're kidding!" he snarled. "You had over a week to retrieve him and you did not stop this? I needed another intelligent model!"

 _He was too heavily guarded. Attempts to get near all ended in failure. We lost too many members. Number Four had to be abandoned._

"He only got two before he got caught! What a waste!"

A voice chuckled, "Talking to yourself makes you look insane, you know."

Netherlands looked to his right and saw Hendrik leaning against the wall. He was giving him a smirk and his eyes were gleaming.

"I heard just now about Number Four," Netherlands muttered.

"I just heard about that myself," the soldier said. "But it will be fine. Did you hear about Number One and Two's success?"

"Not yet," he replied.

"They were taken to Turkey first, and they eliminated him."

Netherlands felt a burst of elation within him. His face lifted and he asked enthusiastically, "Where are they off to next?"

"China. I looked at your computer while I was waiting and I saw everyone's posts. China posted that Hong Kong is coming over to live with him, so I went and recommended that location."

He could see his laptop in its case, the handle grasped by Hendrik. Netherlands went on to ask, "How will they get Number One and Two that far?"

"Someone told me that they're going to try and board trains illegally. That's at least how they made it to Turkey so fast."

Netherlands nodded in satisfaction. He did not want to wait long between kills. His heart fluttered in his chest as he longed for _more_ of everything. More action, blood, and death. He craved it all immensely. The aches under his bandages were like a burning motivation to push through anything that got in the way.

"Come." Netherlands stalked ahead of his soldier and threw open the door.

Hendrik caught up to him, breathing out, "Gladly."

When the soldier started to laugh softly to himself, Netherlands looked at him in confusion. He asked, "Why are you laughing?"

Hendrik smiled slowly. He watched how Netherlands blinked at him while trying to figure out the reason he was expressing humor. He did not reach a conclusion. His face changed and it seemed that he had become bored. Netherlands continued on outside and when he saw the car, he headed straight towards it.

They drove back to the soldier's house and life continued on its meandering course.

* * *

A week passed since the funeral and Netherlands' wounds had all healed. He had since removed his stitches and whatever scars he had received from Russia, Germany, and the organization were fading into faint lines. He readjusted his scarf in the restroom however, taking extra care to cover the marks on his neck before he stepped back into the hall.

Netherlands came out just as Lithuania passed by. He followed him down a hall lined with grim-faced soldiers until they came to the room already half-filled with people. He strolled around the large table and stopped behind the spot beside Denmark, taking a moment to take off his coat and hang it over the chair's back before he seated himself.

Once comfortable, Netherlands now took the chance to look around and see who had come to the September meeting. There was already France, Austria, and Liechtenstein naturally, but then Spain, Portugal, North and South Italy, the three Nordics, Britain, Czech, and Lithuania were also in the room. Netherlands watched the door when Belarus and Ukraine entered soon followed by Japan, Croatia, Romania, and Bulgaria. A bit later, Greece made an appearance as did India.

In conclusion, America waltzed in chatting loudly to Canada, who stepped in quietly while looking around at everyone gathered at the table. Netherlands resisted to stare at the North American countries like a hawk would at game birds. He had to remain calm although the sight of them made him eager for murder. He could not go on airplanes anymore now that he had metal in him that would be detected through security. He could not go to North America, and even if he could, their countries were so vast they could hide themselves forever. The only option was to strike whenever they appeared on this continent.

 _Do not blow your cover_ , Netherlands was reminded.

 _I am not an idiot!_ he retorted mentally. _I know today is about acting as a spy before anything else._

Yet Netherlands thought of the plastic bag tucked in the inner pocket of his coat. He was briefly launched into the memory of him preparing the contents. He had been training in the forest with Hendrik when he had come across a patch of poison hemlock growing on the border of the forest and a farm. He had taken off his shirt to wrap around the youngest, greenest plant to break it off at the stem. Once back, he had covered his skin and used gloves to protect himself when he ripped the leaves into small bits and tucked them into four sandwich bags.

He had brought one just in case an opportunity would arrive. If someone brought food and left it unattended, he might be able to sprinkle some poison hemlock over it. He would just have to time it so that the symptoms would not occur until after the meeting. It was a risk arriving with poison on him, but this was when his reputation could come in hand. When had received a quick check and pat down for weapons at the entrance, they had not found this bag, but even if they had caught him he could have faked irritation and made them believe that these were not but drugs.

Still, he could not help imagining what it would look like if he slit their throats with a trusty kitchen knife. He thought of how he murdered Sweden, and he decided that it was not as satisfying as it was when he had gained the trust of his prey and got them to come close to him. He thought of himself alone with one of them, blubbering out his woes so that he received enough pity to get a hug out of them. When so close, he could make a good strike. He just had to remember however, to hold tighter so that his victim would not fall out of his arms like Luxembourg had.

"Alright," America began. "Thanks for coming, everyone! I know none of you are comfortable coming here, but I'm glad you know that it's important. We have to act because it's just getting way out of hand now."

Everyone murmured and nodded in agreement.

"So," America continued. "There's a lot we don't know. Let's start with what we know! For one, we know _for sure_ three who are infected: Germany, Russia, and Sweden."

Britain spoke up, "Why isn't Switzerland here? Couldn't he have helped us? Surely, he knows something?"

France murmured, "We keep trying to contact him, but he hardly responds. He did not want to see us although he did say that he would show up to this meeting."

"Is he late?"

"Yes, he just sent a message."

Britain said, "If it is true that they were getting smarter, then it would seem that Switzerland has a lot to say."

Netherlands thought, _How much does he know?_

The answer was, _We never told him who we are and where we are. Your name was never mentioned either._

"Then there is the question of a fifth one," Norway brought up.

"Right," America said. "Is there though, or was that just a person of that organization helping out? We know that they come in sometimes in their costumes and kill people who are in the way. The person on the roof could have just been the driver."

"It is probable," Britain agreed. "But that still leaves five dead and one missing."

"Could be six dead," America frowned.

Netherlands had made sure he had started to tremble and stare down at the table with a shine in his eyes since they had first started talking about Belgium. Denmark was looking at him in concern from the side and Netherlands pretended not to notice. But now, after America's last statement, Netherlands took the chance to snap.

He smacked his fists on the table and rose up. He shouted, "She's not dead!"

The shock on the other faces was perfect. His outburst had startled America then left him with discomfort. Of course his sister's death was considered a possibility, but no one wanted to say such a thing to a person who they believed was sensitive from the grief of losing his brother. Even America could sense the mood that Netherlands had made up.

Everyone was silent. Denmark decided to touch his arm and say softly, "No one knows where she is. No one can say she is dead."

Netherlands lowered himself back into his seat and looked away, appearing slightly ruffled in embarrassment.

"Now, we know that we've been trying our own strategies," Britain recommenced the conversation. "Some of us have hired bodyguards, although that method seems to be unreliable for protection. Others have put alarms and traps in their yards, but none of Denmark's traps were triggered when he was attacked, and Luxembourg's alarms did not help either."

Netherlands became tense and he held his throat as though it hurt. He saw in his peripheral vision the Nordics giving him sympathetic looks.

"Then we have been moving in with each other," he continued. "And so far, that has been working well as long as a strict look-out system is maintained. Many who have been in groups have survived attacks. This could be our best defense plan."

There were nods, especially from those already moved in with others.

"Hungary and I were… not ready," Austria murmured. "But everyone else was. I think being in groups works."

Romano spoke up, "Seborga is going to live with us."

Croatia said, "And the Balkan countries are working something up."

From across the table, Spain looked at Czech and asked her, "You are alone still. Have you talked to Slovakia yet?"

"He's coming to my house," she replied. "Not that it means I'm giving up my independence, naturally!"

She had not needed to defend herself. None of the arrangements were indicating the joining of nations. All would work by themselves on their own assignments still and not have anyone superior in the household.

Lithuania, the representative of Latvia's stronghold, said, "No one should be alone. The first thing we should accomplish in this meeting is to get everyone to join forces with someone else."

"I suppose there's room at my place if anyone wants the advantage of being disconnected from the mainland," Britain offered.

Spain and Portugal were already at the same house. Ukraine and Belarus were as well and then Romania, Moldova, and Bulgaria were said to be together. Greece sighed, "I suppose I could work something out with Turkey. I can suck it up if it is so important…"

That covered every European nation at the table but one. Netherlands was finally asked by France, "Netherlands, do you have a plan?"

"I disagree," he muttered. "Sticking together makes you more obvious. I think the best option is to get a new house and hide somewhere isolated."

"Is that what you did?" Finland asked.

Netherlands nodded. "I have a new house, but I will keep the location a secret between my guard and boss. I did not want the law force to know where I was in case one of them would be threatened, so my guard goes out and vouches for me now and then."

"I still think it's better to do both," Portugal stated.

"I do not want to move in with anyone." Netherlands lowered his voice to stress that his decision would stay firm.

They left him alone once India asked, "Should the Asian nations do this too?"

"Yes," Britain replied. "We cannot assume that the madness is not going to strike Asia as well. I know you feel safe where you are, and that is the reason only three of you came here to Europe today. But China is right when he asked Hong Kong to move in with him."

"Hey." America looked around the table, then he raised his eyebrows. "Where _is_ China?"

Everyone looked around, and Japan repeated, "China?"

"He said he was coming," America told them. "But he's not here."

Britain looked baffled. "I thought he was," he said as he gazed over every face at the table to confirm this.

Netherlands made sure to put a look of concern on his face.

"Call him then," Canada murmured. "He might be late."

"Yeah, maybe his flight got delayed." America nodded as he pulled out his cellphone.

He put the phone against his head and waited. Everyone stared at him as it just kept ringing until it reached voicemail. America tried to call again, but the same thing occurred. Netherlands had to force back the urge to grin. He noticed nations around himself growing worried, trying to figure out if the infected had leapt over countries to target China. No other reason jumped into their minds at this time. They were beginning to become terrified.

"Umm…" America trailed off.

"Call Hong Kong!" Britain gasped. "He said he was moving in with China today!"

America nodded as his face went pale. He looked at his phone again then searched through his contacts. He found Hong Kong then called him.

"Dude!" America exclaimed immediately. "Where are you?"

Everyone could hear Hong Kong through the phone as he replied, "Oh, I'm almost at China's. Well, not really. I seriously just got off the plane. I'm trying to get a taxi right now."

"When was the last time you contacted him?"

"Yesterday. He said he was going to your meeting."

America said, "I don't know if he boarded his plane. He's not here and he's not answering his phone."

"Didn't the meeting just start? His plane might just be late. Why all the panic?"

America quickly pressed, "Please, man, you have to check his house and see if he's okay. Just in case."

"Well yeah, I'm going there anyway"- Hong Kong stopped talking to him for a few seconds to converse in Cantonese to whom was likely to be a taxi driver which he had been seeking- "So of course I'll check. I might get caught up in traffic though, but I can call you back when I get there."

"Thank you," America sighed. "I just… it's unusual that he wouldn't send any kind of message saying that he was going to be late. So…"

"I got you," Hong Kong replied. "Talk to you later."

He hung up. Everyone in the room was now left in a state of unease. Their hairs were on end and their eyes shifty as legs and hands tapped. No one knew what to say, but then a distraction appeared. The door slowly opened and everyone turned their attention upon it.

Switzerland jolted and froze when all eyes flashed upon him. His eyes stretched open wide in fear and with his hand on the door, he took a step back. He accidentally made eye contact with Austria, then panicked. Switzerland inhaled sharply and disappeared around the corner. When they heard his footsteps heading away, America leapt up and raced to the door.

"No, wait- dude! We need your help!" he called down the hall.

Switzerland stopped and turned. He cast America then the soldiers around him a nervous glance. He was rooted to the spot with indecision. His mouth was pulled thin and it was plain to see that waves of thoughts were crashing in his mind. America was about to call out to him again, then a small form dashed out past him into the hall.

Liechtenstein gasped, "No, please don't run away!"

She hurried down the hall towards him. Switzerland scrambled backwards, holding out his hands as he yelped, "No, Liechtenstein! D-Don't… come near me…"

She stopped and stared at him with huge eyes that gleamed like gems. She whimpered, "Why…? I haven't seen you since you got all better."

Switzerland exclaimed, "How can you forgive me just like that?"

As he began to raise his voice, a few others from the room snuck out into the hall to see what was happening. The corner of Switzerland's eyes flooded over with tears as he looked over the arriving faces.

"Why don't you hate me?" he whispered. "I-I… I killed…"

"We know it wasn't you," Liechtenstein told him, her voice dropping in seriousness. "We only hate the people who made you do it."

Austria stepped out and strolled up to Liechtenstein's side. Austria's head was lowered like a wary animal approaching something possibly threatening and his eyes were wide with terror. Yet he was still there, saying, "Help us stop them, Switzerland."

Switzerland shivered as tears raced down each side of his face. He whined, "I'm so sorry… so sorry… I never wanted to do any of what I did… I could not control-"

"We know," Austria murmured. He looked afraid still, but Switzerland knew he was only haunted by the memories of what the body in front of him had done.

"And we want to know your story," Canada told him softly. "Come in, please, and sit with us."

Switzerland moved forward carefully. Many turned around to go back into the room and reclaim their previous seats. Switzerland stepped in unhindered but stopped near the table. Liechtenstein took his hand and he gasped quietly. She led him to a chair between her and France that had been left unoccupied. Switzerland slid into it and immediately tensed up. The last few sat down, then looked at him beseechingly.

Switzerland swallowed, then said quietly, "I remember everything."

"So you are different than Germany and Russia," Netherlands said.

Switzerland dipped his head and replied, "Yes."

No one wanted to speak at first, worried that they might all slew questions at him and startle him. Liechtenstein asked after a silence, "You told me that you heard voices."

"The entire time, someone was talking to me in my head," Switzerland said. "But the thing was… they messed with my emotions, making me agree with everything they said. I had no control at all. They could make me feel an anger beyond anything I had ever experienced before. Blind rage and hatred for whoever, be it my family… or friends…"

"Did you learn anything about that person?" Britain asked.

"They spoke German," Switzerland mumbled, "and they mentioned an organization, but I don't know anything else about it except that it has supporters from all over Europe and their goal is to kill all of us. I was made to desire that goal as well. They had such control… if I tried to rationalize anything, they would force me to lose interest and to not think about it. That is how I forgot some things. How I forgot to be logical."

He glanced at Italy and Romano.

"You never met up with the other ones, did you?" France prompted him.

"No, I never saw them," Switzerland replied. "Although… they were mentioned. They always called them as numbers. Germany was Number One. Russia was Number Two. Sweden Three, and I was Number Four. Every time they addressed us, they refused to call us anything else. I started calling us by the numbers as well, thinking of us as models of a project. They said I was almost perfect, but that Number Five was perfection. And they wanted me to meet with Number Five, but I never got to."

"Is Number Five Belgium? Do you know?" Denmark asked.

"I do not know who it is, because they always said _Number Five_ only," Switzerland answered him. "But… I know it is not Belgium."

"How?" America inquired.

"Because," Switzerland said. "When they spoke of Number Five, they would say _he_ and _him_ a lot."

Jaws dropped.

"Hold on!" Britain cried. "Are you saying that someone else is infected?"

America protested, "But no one else is missing!"

"Unless it is someone we thought to be dead," France mused.

Austria replied, "No chance. Those who are dead are certainly dead."

Denmark pounded the table once for attention. Everyone went quiet and looked his way.

"Look," Denmark uttered. "This _Number Five_ would have been active for weeks according to what Switzerland said. And if it is not Belgium, then it means one thing only: there is a wolf among us."

All were startled in their seats. Gasps and cries were emitted and everyone stared around the room at each other.

"Not someone in the room particularly," Denmark continued, "but a European nation is infected and none of us know it. I was afraid this would happen. Every _model_ was made smarter. After Switzerland, the organization managed to create Number Five, the one who can blend in with the others to escape detection."

"But what of Belgium?" Netherlands cried.

Denmark frowned as he looked at him. "I don't think she's around anymore…"

Netherlands' face tightened and he made a small mewling sound in his throat. He wrapped his arms around himself and squeezed. He whispered, "No, _please_ don't say that."

"I'm… sorry," Denmark murmured.

Netherlands made sure to give the wood of the table a wide-eyed stare. He parted his lips slightly and let his vision blur to make himself appear unfocused and trapped in his mind. He was still aware of his surroundings in reality, however. He was listening intently to the conversation.

"Then we need to find out who that Number Five is." America put a fist down onto his palm.

"That must have been the roof shooter!" Finland exclaimed. "So someone who is nearby enough that they would not get caught gone for too long!"

"It was none of us!" Lithuania threw out. "We do not leave the house!"

"It is easy to eliminate a lot of suspects, just because so many live together," Spain explained. "So we can look at whoever lives alone."

Netherlands felt satisfaction inside when eyes did not look his way, but Britain's.

"What? Me?" Britain looked shocked.

"You are one of the only ones alone," Denmark said. "It might just be you."

"It is not me!" Britain argued. "Don't accuse me when there are plenty of others to accuse!"

"Do you think it is a Balkan country?" Greece slowly said.

"No." Switzerland shook his head. "I was told to head Northwest after I took out Italy. I remember that, although they never said which country we would meet in."

"Look, there are still others," Britain defended himself. "Micronations, likely."

"Northern micronations?" Denmark tilted his head. "They're just kids!"

Everyone looked doubtful and back to Britain.

"What about Netherlands?" Britain waved a hand in his direction. "He lives alone too, and in the area of action!"

Netherlands looked up slowly and murmured a pathetic, "Wha…?"

Denmark jumped in, "He's already been proven innocent countless times over! He went through interrogations, had his house searched many times, and he was given a guard specifically to watch his actions! He has done nothing!"

Norway contributed, "Germany and Russia nearly killed him, let's not forget…"

Netherlands looked around himself with fake fear, pleading with shining eyes for everyone to listen to Denmark and Norway. He won their sympathy. Everyone put their focus back on Britain.

"I offered for people to come stay with me!" he exclaimed. "If I had done that to kill them, it would have proven that I was Number Five- which I am not! And if any of you had accepted, I could not go out and help kill nations, now could I?"

"No one was going to accept, that might be why you said it," Romano countered.

"What? How could I have known others had already made arrangements if they said that after I made that offer!"

"Hey, guys- calm," America said. "I doubt it was Britain, but the solution is easy. He can just do what Netherlands did to prove his innocence."

"Interrogations?" Britain huffed. "Fine. I have nothing to hide!"

"You might need a guard too…" America added hesitantly.

Britain replied, "I don't care. I know I am not guilty and I am willing to prove it."

A ray of light beamed through the gap between the dusty curtains. Britain regarded the parallelogram of light it left on the table after he had spoken. That was when America's phone rang and he scrambled to answer it. At the sound, everyone sprang to attention, recalling in a flash China and feeling sudden stress.

"Alright, I'm coming up to his house," Hong Kong announced.

"Great, okay," America responded. He put the phone on speaker, raised the volume, then set it on the table.

They heard footsteps on pavement then a thud. There was a jingle, then Hong Kong's voice reporting, "The door's locked. I think he's out, but he gave me a key."

They heard the door unlock then Hong Kong calling, "China? Are you home?"

No answer. They heard Hong Kong's breaths and footsteps as he explored the house.

"No, he's not home," Hong Kong told them. "The plan was that he would go to the meeting and I would arrive while he was gone and watch over the place until he came back. So he's still not there?"

"No. He's not," America replied.

"Maybe he's late but forgot his phone?" Hong Kong offered.

"I don't know. Someone can try calling it and you can see if it is there."

France told everyone, "I can call him."

He brought out his phone and looked for his number. As he did this, Hong Kong remarked, "But it would be really strange if he forgot his phone…"

"It's ringing," France proclaimed.

They waited. Hong Kong was silent for a few moments, then he said slowly, "Wait a second… I think I hear it." They heard his footsteps again on the wooden floor. "Yeah… It's coming from outside…?"

A door was heard sliding open. The footsteps on wood changed to footsteps on grass. Then, all noise stopped for a second before a scream broke through the speaker. Everyone jumped up from their seats gasping and yelling. America shouted, "Hong Kong? You there? Talk to us! What's happening?"

They heard heavy breathing. Sobbing.

" _No… No… China…_ "

"What happened?" America cried.

"China…!" Hong Kong gasped before breaking off into a wail.

"Is he?" France yelped.

"He's _dead_ ," Hong Kong choked. "Oh my god… oh my god… China…"

"No, he can't be!" Britain exclaimed.

"He's… He's… stuck to the ground…" Hong Kong whispered with difficulty. "By javelins…"

"No, wait-" France cut in. "He might still be alive! Check!"

"No, no, no, no…" Hong Kong whimpered. "He is dead…"

"Check!" Many protested in chorus.

"No!" Hong Kong screamed. "He's dead! They cut off his head!"

Mouths widened. Some screamed aloud and some screamed silently, the pain in their throats so strong that only a weak hiss could escape them. It took only a moment for tears to fall and for people to clutch their faces, bow their heads, and cry helplessly in horror.

"No way," America choked as tears dropped down from behind his glasses. "No way China's dead…"

Hong Kong's sobs overwhelmed the call. Everyone carried on listening for a long time without anything else to do. Switzerland broke down and fell over the table, crying profusely. Liechtenstein snuggled into his side and eventually he turned, held her tightly, and balled over her.

That was until, Hong Kong's crying turned into a shriek. The audio was transformed then into rapid breathing and Hong Kong's feet tearing across the lawn. There were screams of, "No! No! Don't! No!" cut short by a long screech of agony. They heard a crackle that indicated that the phone had fallen, then Hong Kong gasping heavily and grunting with effort.

" _Hong Kong_!" was the cry of the room.

"Ow… a… help…" Hong Kong wheezed. A cough followed, and it sounded unhealthy, thick, and wet. Then they heard a jumble of sprinting feet approaching and Hong Kong let out a bloodcurdling scream.

" _Aaaah! no - please_!" he caterwauled.

There was a hefty _thunk_. Hong Kong stopped speaking. Now he emitted unusual gurgling noises. There was another powerful thunk that came with a messy snapping sound. Then, silence. Footsteps again, a pair of them, shuffled by the phone, and then they stamped away until they had disappeared completely.

The call continued, but now everything on the other end of the phone was quiet.

* * *

*In Dutch: _(klaar)komen_ = to orgasm, and, _komen_ = to come (non-vulgar usage). The similarity still exists in this language.


	11. Chapter 11

"Okay, everyone- we need to calm down!" Britain cried. "Come on, let's focus here!"

Help had been called, but for the following half hour there was still panic. They had been crying and moaning for the time spent, forgetting entirely about the meeting. Now, Britain had remembered the purpose for their time here, knowing that they had a job to get done.

"H-He's right," Lithuania breathed. "We can't do anything else now for them… We have to continue the meeting and find out a way to stop this."

"We can't just expect to capture Germany, Russia, and Sweden," France said. "We need to find Number Five, capture him, and make him give us the location of the organization!"

"You think he would know that?" Switzerland asked quietly.

"If they think that Number Five is perfect, then they think he will not get caught," Japan explained. "So it is likely that they would give him more information."

"Okay, so a Northern European country," America shot out. "How about we just test everybody up there? We can have everyone checked to see if they have chips or chemicals in their head or back."

"You mean have minor surgery done?" Finland inquired.

"Sure! It will be fast and we can figure out who that wolf in sheep's clothing is!"

"It doesn't take much to know," Denmark said. "If you try cutting in at the base of their skull, you'll hit something immediately. It is just a quick poke with a knife."

"It's a good plan," Britain admitted.

Bulgaria spoke up, "But you mean us too?"

"Everyone. Heck, even I'll do it!" America answered.

Britain elaborated, "Because maybe Number Five is someone who is living with others but just hasn't made any moves yet."

"Okay, but how will we go through with this?" Spain asked.

Canada said, "Right, we do need to be sure that no one can escape with a lie."

"Then what we can do is we can have another country doing it," Britain offered. "No one gets to do it themselves or have someone other than one us of do it. We have to plan it out so we know when someone is getting checked, and they can sign something once they have clarified that the other person is not infected."

"Okay, let's make that form," Denmark said. "I want to find out who Number Five is immediately!"

America got out his computer and put up a word document. Those around him helped him with the format.

"We need a spot for the date," Canada told him softly. "Day and time required."

"A place for the name of the person being tested and another for the one doing the test at the top," Britain contributed. "Signatures of both people at the bottom."

America hurried to put all this in, then they helped him complete the main text.

"Alright," America announced once everything was ready. "Here is what we got: _The Clearance Clarification Form. All under the status of nation must complete this form with all of its conditions. Name of analyst:_ blank _. Name of subject:_ blank. _On_ blank _(day) at_ blank _(time) at the location_ blank _it has been confirmed that the subject of this document has no devices of manipulation in their body. Signature of analyst:_ blank. _Signature of subject:_ blank."

"Perfect," Britain stated.

"Saved," America said. "I'll share it with everyone. Y'all will just have to print it out then scan it when it's filled."

"Let's try having this all done as soon as possible," France suggested. "By the end of the week at the latest, before something else can happen…"

Everyone affirmed that they understood. Netherlands swallowed after he had finished nodding and tried not to appear bothered.

 _What are you going to do now?_ the voice asked.

 _I'm thinking_ , he replied curtly.

 _You cannot escape the test. It is not looking good._

Netherlands thought, _I will figure something out. Be quiet._

He scrambled for ideas. He managed to stay calm and focused with the help of the chemicals, and he was soon on the trail of a plan.

 _How necessary is Hendrik now?_ he asked.

 _What do you mean? He is a member of Fire and Brimstone._

Netherlands thought, _I do not think he is a true follower of the Bible._

 _You think this because you believe what he did to you is a sin._

 _It is_ , he replied.

 _It is not._

Netherlands knew his emotions were moments away from being controlled. Soon he would be forced to agree then forget temporarily again.

 _Hear me out_ , he rushed. _Hendrik does not see it as vengeance. He is sinful. You cannot see from my eyes, but I know his thoughts for they are plain in his expression. There is no gratification on his face which would be home to those who have taken revenge. He is but a man of lust._

He had never received the opportunity to speak so much about this subject. Now that he had gotten his words out, the other end had gone silent in consideration.

"What can we do now?" Japan asked.

Netherlands listened still, trying not to get too distracted with the discussion in his head.

"Finding Number Five seems to be the top priority," Britain replied. "I think all of our focus should go on this in order to find the location of the organization."

"How do we know that there is a building somewhere?" Belarus muttered. "There have been terrorists in many countries."

"They developed complicated technology," Britain said. "They need to have a place to work in order to do something like that, do you not think so?"

Greece asked, "And how exactly, do we get Number Five to betray the organization when they have complete control over him?"

"Well, first we cure him of course, then we get him to tell us everything he knows," Denmark responded. "Number Five cannot be killed, same with anyone else infected that we find. Our main goal has to be capture."

"We have to remember that no matter what happens, it is not their fault," Spain agreed. "We want to fix them, not murder them. We've lost too many already. We do not need to lose Germany, Russia, Sweden, and whoever Number Five is as well."

Romano saw the utter sincerity in Italy's nods.

Netherlands finally dropped his head to the side and murmured to Denmark, "Do you want to come over and fill out my form for me?"

"Oh, I have a few things to do after the meeting today and tomorrow…" Denmark trailed off, then looked to the side and asked, "Norway? Are you busy today?"

"Yeah," he replied, "but I am free tomorrow."

"I'm not doing anything!" Finland piped up, having had heard the question as well.

Netherlands spoke past Denmark and Norway to him, "So you will follow me back? With the drive, we will be back late but you are welcome to stay the night."

"Oh, sure! It's no problem at all. I have time."

"Excellent."

With this confirmation, the rest that followed in the meeting became background noise as Netherlands was overwhelmed with excitement.

* * *

The house was locked in the thick, unmistakable rank of rot. The odour was as humid as the air and the moment Greece smelt it escaping the window, he knew what had happened. There was naturally denial in him, the part of him that wanted to refuse what was clear, so he hurried to the window and peered inside.

Turkey was on his side covered with the shiny bodies of swarming flies. Greece gasped. Some of the flies swirled upwards to reveal maggots crawling over the green-gray flesh and Greece happened to catch a glimpse of the eyeless face. He threw himself away from the window, turning around and holding his mouth as he shook.

 _They got Turkey… They killed him…_

It took him a while to realize that he had a responsibility. He stood around, swaying, until he knew that he had to report the event to authorities, then the other nations. First he dug out his phone, the one that displayed the calls he had sent to Turkey that had never been answered. He created a mental list of all the things that he had to do, trying to keep himself on track although he felt like crumbling on a dime.

 _How can Turkey be dead?_ It was as though this was the first death. It seemed so impossible when he had known Turkey for so long, that he could die. It had felt like he would simply _always_ be there, but now he was not. Greece wondered for a moment if he was dreaming, but as he spoke on the phone, he could not get himself to wake up. He thought that perhaps he had imagined it all, but the smell still creeping out disputed this. Nothing could disprove the truth, and when he comprehended this, it was a hard blow to accept.

He did not know what to write for the rest of the world to see. He sat for a while with police and paramedics around him, trying to figure out how he got there and how long he had been sitting with a shock blanket around him. The entire time he could think only of the message he would have to deliver.

There was a long delay before the news eventually did get passed on. Shock rocked the world as they realized that a death occurred before the tragedy that struck China and Hong Kong. Finland was on his phone, sitting on his couch while Netherlands was quickly reheating yesterday's soup on the stove. When Finland got a notification and cried out, Netherlands scrambled out of the kitchen, gasping, "What happened?"

Finland was holding his face as he whispered, "Turkey is dead."

" _Turkey_?"

Finland nodded.

"Just now?" Netherlands demanded.

"I don't know… Greece just said…"

Netherlands went back into the kitchen and stirred the contents of the pot. From there, he sighed, "That makes eight."

Although, he knew well that the number was up to ten now.

"I can't believe it sometimes," Finland said quietly. "It's happening too fast."

Netherlands started to clean up in the kitchen, putting everything away and wiping down the counter. When that was done, he took the pot off the burner and let it cool. He swung out from the doorframe and asked, "What do you want to drink?"

"Er, water is fine," Finland replied.

Netherlands nodded then ducked back into the room. He came out with the water and some for himself as well, then he started to set the table. He put some sliced bread out then took the pot and set it onto a placemat.

"There," Netherlands proclaimed.

Finland came over and sat himself in the seat across from him. Netherlands waited until Finland had used the ladle and poured some soup into his own bowl, then he did the same. It was too hot to eat, so they waited and Finland killed time by asking, "So your soldier is coming back from the police station?"

"Any minute now," Netherlands reaffirmed.

There was an extra empty bowl beside Netherlands. He glanced at the clock on the wall then back to Finland. The other was starting to sip tentatively at the liquid. Netherlands raised his own spoon and tested the heat of the soup on his lips, then decided to wait a little longer.

Seconds later, there was a thunk at the door. Netherlands got up and walked towards it to let Hendrik in. They came back to the table where Finland looked up at them with a spoon in his mouth.

"Ah, you were cooking!" Hendrik exclaimed.

"No, it is the stuff I made yesterday. There is still so much though," Netherlands said. "Here, there is a spot for you."

"Thank you."

The soldier sat down first, then he did. Netherlands took a piece of bread then dipped it in his bowl while the others around him spooned the soup in. Netherlands covered a few slices in broth and ate them before he finished off the bowl he had half-filled. Hendrik and Finland were soon on their third servings and Hendrik had copied Netherlands, dipping the bread into the soup as well.

Netherlands got up and took his dishes away first. He washed them, then everyone else's when they came up to him and slipped them into the sink. Finland was more embarrassed to do it, but Netherlands had waved him off when he had tried to help him.

Finland went back to his phone waiting on the couch. Netherlands peeked out and saw him staring at the screen with a downcast face. He knew that he was rereading the post about Turkey and he thought that perhaps he was remembering what had happened to China and Hong Kong over seven hours ago. Netherlands strolled back up to the sink and Hendrik slid up to his side.

"Who is this?" Hendrik murmured in Dutch.

"Finland," Netherlands mumbled.

"What is the plan?"

"Help him with the printer."

"What?"

Netherlands said, "I am serious. We need to print some things out."

"You… aren't going to kill him?"

Netherlands wiped his hands, turned the soldier around, then directed him to the living room.

"He'll help you print the forms," Netherlands told Finland.

Hendrik led Finland across the house. Netherlands took the empty pot and washed it before setting it on a towel to air-dry. He then searched a drawer and pulled out the smallest knife he could find, a paring knife, which had a blade smaller than its handle. He fetched the paper towel roll, some leftover bandages, and a pen, then came back into the living room.

He set everything down and waited for Finland and Hendrik to return. When he did, he showed Finland the knife and asked, "Is this good?"

"Yeah, that's fine!" was the chirp he received.

Finland placed down two sheets of paper beside the other things Netherlands had set out. Netherlands spun around a sheet and looked over everything that had been typed out at the meeting.

"I'll check you over first." Netherlands seized the pen and wrote his name then Finland's at the top.

"Sure," Finland said, unfazed.

Netherlands looked at Hendrik, who was only standing and watching them. Netherlands told him in Dutch, "Don't stand around here. Leave the room."

Hendrik conceded and departed. Now alone with Finland, Netherlands took the knife and approached him.

"How do we do this?" Netherlands asked.

Finland knelt down and said, "When Denmark did this to Sweden, he did not have to go far. I say just slice down a few times."

Netherlands walked around and knelt behind Finland. He raised the knife, put his hand on his shoulder, and replied, "Alright."

He carefully pressed the tip of the knife down into his skin. Finland inhaled but said nothing as Netherlands cut through and drew blood. Netherlands stopped for a moment to pad the cut with a sheet of paper towel before he continued slicing deeper into the cut he had made.

"Are you okay?" Netherlands asked as he wiped dripping blood from off his nape.

"I'm fine."

"I think I'm done here."

Netherlands took the bandage and wrapped it around Finland's neck until it resembled a white collar. He was gentle when he did it, trying not to squeeze. Netherlands went and washed his hands and the knife, then he came back and signed the form. Finland signed it after him, and Netherlands filled in the location, date, and time of completion.

"You're not infected." Netherlands smiled slightly. "Not that I expected it though. You, Denmark, and Norway are obviously not."

"There is no way they could be." Finland looked over at him. "I've been with them most of the time since Sweden was turned. And I know them so well that if someone tried to change them, I would have noticed the change in their personality."

"No one can really say the same about me." Netherlands glanced back at him, still holding the pen. "No one left really knows me that well."

"Well, no one thinks you are infected anyway," Finland assured him. "You have proven yourself innocent so many times, just like Denmark said."

Netherlands nodded. Finland was surprised when he leaned into him and murmured, "I think… I'd rather stay with you guys. You have been good to me. Would you let me live with you?"

Finland told him, "Definitely, if that's what you want. It's probably not safe to stay here alone- well, I know you're not alone exactly when you have your soldier, but you need more people to watch out for you!"

"Yes, I have changed my mind from what I said at the meeting. It does get quite lonely when everyone else is leaving to go stay with each other and I am not."

"We'd be glad to have you!" Finland smiled nicely at him. Netherlands took the opportunity to sneak in and hug him. Finland's surprise increased, and he blushed slightly from embarrassment.

Netherlands whispered, "Thank you," before he slid away while sticking the pen into Finland's hand. "My turn now," Netherlands reminded him as he smoothly glided the paper under the tip of the pen. "Sign here."

Finland signed his name at the top. When he went to write Netherlands' name, he exclaimed, "Whoops, I was supposed to print my name there!"

"It doesn't really matter." Netherlands shrugged.

Finland put in the location, date, and time first, going down the page. After that, Netherlands handed him the paring knife then knelt in the spot Finland had.

"Try not to be surprised," Netherlands told him as he tugged off his scarf. "I have scars still from when Germany and Russia attacked me."

Netherlands revealed the white lines that were still there from the last surgery the organization had conducted on him. Finland believed his words however, for there were other scars crossing over the straight lines where technology had been inserted. Finland positioned the knife over the same spot where Sweden's chip had been his neck, then began to cut down.

It took seconds for Finland to tap the knife against metal. Netherlands whirled away from his touch, whipping out the pistol he had hidden in his jacket. Finland gasped when the gun was pressed against his head and Netherlands growled, "Drop the knife."

It fell easily from his hand. Finland stared at him with large moon eyes as he whispered, "What? No, how- it's you? How can it be you?"

"Pick up the pen," Netherlands hissed. "Sign the paper."

"D-Did _you_ kill Luxembourg?" Finland whimpered. "A-And Belgium?"

"Do as I say," Netherlands uttered.

"You did!" Finland yelped. "Oh my god- oh my _god_!"

"It will be hard to clean up the mess if I have to blown out your brains," Netherlands snarled. "Pick up the pen and sign that form!"

"What? No!" Finland cried. "You are Number Five!"

"Do it or I will kill you."

Finland exclaimed, "No, you're just going to kill me anyway! I would rather die now than let you go on killing everybody!"

Netherlands cracked a smile. Finland trembled and stared at him with uncertainty, wondering if he was moments away from pulling the trigger.

"I thought you would do this," Netherlands chuckled lowly. "I don't need you to sign the form. I already tricked you into signing the top, so now I can just forge your signature."

Finland dove for the paper. Netherlands booted him in the chest before he could snatch the form and rip it. It was not a hard enough kick to leave a bruise, but it did the job of sending him sprawling onto his back on the floor. Netherlands redirected the gun at Finland, but he did not appear so afraid anymore. A light of confidence sparked in Finland's eyes as he said, "You can't kill me! Denmark and Norway know I went to your house. They will know it is you if you kill me!"

"Smart," Netherlands muttered as he stored the gun back in his coat. "I can't shoot you."

The moment the gun was off him Finland lunged for the form again. Netherlands tackled his legs and Finland crashed hard on the floor with a gasp. Netherlands pinned him down, using the strength from his training and his weight to try and hold him. Finland struggled madly, causing Netherlands to need to cry out, "Hendrik! Rope!"

In less than a minute Hendrik was back in the room with the item he had requested. Finland screeched and fought, but between the two of them, they managed to get Finland into a chair in the kitchen and tied securely to it. Netherlands made sure that a blanket was wrapped over Finland under the rope to make sure that he did not cut himself on them.

"What are you going to do to me?" Finland cried.

"Well," Netherlands smirked. "You see, with the forms done, you go home. On the way home, you disappear. I am shocked; Norway and Denmark really are shocked, then I continue with the mission. You said I couldn't _kill_ you, but you are wrong. I said I couldn't _shoot_ you. That was because we were on the carpet. Now, we are not."

"Netherlands, you're insane! You know you are! Try to fight this!" Finland yelped.

"No. I am committed."

Finland whispered, "It's not you. It's not your fault… You would never want to kill your family! It's true… Netherlands, you can't do this… Please. Take it out of you. This isn't you. I know you well enough to know that you aren't like this!"

"You are irritating," he muttered. "I would cut your tongue out now, but I want something."

"You want our location!" Finland shouted. "But I will never give that to you!"

"You can tell me now _then_ die." Netherlands' voice went even lower. "Or I can torture you for the answer _until_ you die."

Finland inhaled sharply and Netherlands could see shaky fear in his eyes. Finland was trying to find a way out of the situation but he was becoming aware of how stuck he was to the two options he had been given.

"I-I'm going to die anyway…" Finland choked.

"Of course. No demon can be allowed to live."

"A demon?" Finland gasped. "Netherlands, if you think we are demons, then you must know that you are being forced to believe this!"

"I know I am being forced into this."

"Then- then do something! Why are you letting it happen? You have to fight! Call for help!"

Hendrik, who was standing to the side of Netherlands, laughed, "He won't. He is ours."

Finland looked despairingly back and forth between them. Netherlands eventually said, "What will it be, Finland? You cannot escape. You will die in this house; it is a fact."

Tears rushed to Finland's eyes. His heart was hammering so hard in his chest that it stung. He was losing his composure as every word Netherlands said struck him and he realized just how much he feared death.

"Kill me… then…" Finland whined. "If I have to die… then I won't let you kill Norway and Denmark!"

Netherlands walked out of his sight. Finland heard drawers sliding, not seeing how Netherlands hid the pistol before obtaining a steak knife. Finland squeaked when the flat of the knife pressed against his throat and Netherlands murmured behind him, "Do not say such a thing lightly. I am not hesitant with the knife. I will saw through your throat, cutting deeper and deeper… Is this what you want?"

Finland twitched and the ropes started to ache around his chest. Pain flared as his diaphragm clutched. Netherlands chuckled, "Having problems breathing? You are scared. I can see that."

"J-J-Just…" Finland faltered.

"Do it? But I want to know. I think I would rather torture you."

"N-No, please… Netherlands!" Finland wailed. "St-stop… don't do this…!"

He said by his ear, "I am going to cut your throat a bit so you can't scream while I skin you. When you're ready, you can write what I want with whatever hand you have left."

Finland panicked. Now he began to sob and blubber, "No, no- please! Please don't… I won't tell you… You d-don't have to do those things…"

Netherlands took a slightly wet dishtowel and crammed it into his mouth as he was pleading. Netherlands held his head and drove the towel in deeper until it filled his mouth, then he tied the ends around Finland's head. Netherlands left and got the knife that was only coated lightly in his blood, then he washed it and left it to dry in the drawer. Netherlands then wiped off Finland's hands of the little bit of his blood that was left on his skin. Finland stared at him in terrified confusion. Netherlands tilted his head and showed him the shine of slyness in his gaze. Finland's concern heightened.

Netherlands left and came back with nail clippers. Finland could hardly resist as Netherlands cleaned under his nails and then his own. He wiped off the nail clippers then put them on the table. Hendrik was also puzzled when Netherlands went out and turned on the television. Netherlands popped back into the kitchen to say, "I'll come back later," before he sat himself on the couch and searched for something that would be good in these late hours.

Hendrik scurried into the living room, demanding, "What are you doing?"

"Relaxing."

"You have a job to do!"

Netherlands sent him a glare. "I am aware."

"Why are you just sitting there then?"

"Sit down," Netherlands muttered. "There's no rush."

"But you just said you would torture him!" Hendrik protested.

Netherlands murmured, "We must wait. You can bandage my neck for me in the meantime."

The soldier did not understand what was happening but he begrudgingly sat down anyway. He took the roll of bandages and quickly covered Netherlands' bleeding wound then he wiped off the blood running down his neck with a paper towel sheet. The entire time Netherlands was watching the movie that was on screen and eventually Hendrik succumbed and paid attention to it as well. The boredom was hitting the guard but he knew that Netherlands was not in the mood to elaborate on whatever goal he was trying to achieve at this moment.

Finland was heard from the kitchen, his muffled screaming quiet in comparison to the playing action scene of the movie. Netherlands inwardly smirked when the sounds died down after the minutes went by. When fifteen minutes had passed, Hendrik decided to press up against him and put an arm around him. Netherlands bit his tongue so that he would not say anything. Nothing in him was making him passive; he just knew that he had to put up with this for the time being. Even when Hendrik gained more confidence because of his lack of reaction, Netherlands let him put his face into his neck and exhale uncomfortably hot breaths there between the hungry kisses placed above his bandage.

 _This is why he does not belong_ , Netherlands thought as he closed his eyes and tried to keep his face in a neutral state.

 _You have done well, Number Five._

Seconds later, Hendrik fell back holding his face. Netherlands looked over to him as the soldier blinked rapidly. Hendrik fell back into the couch and noticed Netherlands watching him after a bit. The soldier moved back to him again and Netherlands turned his face back to the screen just as an attempt to capture his lips was underway. He could feel however, the slight quivering that had started in the other as he held him. This almost brought a smile to Netherlands' face.

It seemed Hendrik had forgotten about the movie. Not caring that Finland was around, Hendrik commenced his usual ritual. Netherlands was laid down onto his back and crawled over. Inside he was fuming with rage, but he showed nothing on the outside. He could not show anything for the sake of his plan. Fortunately, after seconds of aggressive slobber, Hendrik collapsed over him with a gasp.

Netherlands reached up and touched Hendrik's neck, feeling how his pulse was increasing. He pushed Hendrik onto the floor, allowing him to hit it with a smack. He did not move much afterwards. Hendrik groaned and curled around his hands which were clutching his chest.

Netherlands got up and headed to the kitchen. He saw Finland weakly slumped over his binds, hardly moving. Netherlands untied him and dragged his shallowly breathing form into the living room. He positioned him on the couch and tucked in the blanket around him as Finland balled up and quaked. He put the chair and rope away then returned to the room.

Hendrik stood up slowly, trembling and sweating profusely. Netherlands could see the worry and drowsiness affecting him, and how he had begun to salivate more. Netherlands suddenly felt a wave of tingling exhaustion hit him as well, but he stood tall and pushed Hendrik back down to the ground.

Hendrik twitched, then asked quietly, "What's… happening? Did you do this?"

"Yes. I poisoned the soup."

"But… not the same soup that we ate?"

Netherlands said, "That's the one."

"What?"

"Meat, carrots, celery, salt and pepper, some other things, and hemlock. It tasted good, didn't it?"

"You ate it too!" Hendrik cried.

Netherlands leaned over him and grinned as he replied, "Not as much as you did."

The following shriek was, "Why the hell did you let me eat it?"

Netherlands smashed his foot into Hendrik's crotch. The soldier screamed, then Netherlands uttered, "You believed that I had forgotten about how you violated me, but I did not. They could not make me forget those nights entirely. Sometimes if I just look at you, I remember everything. The organization agrees with me now though, that you are not one of us. I was never going to torture Finland; I was hoping for an answer but I did not need his help anyway. It was a distraction, just like when I tempted you on the couch with me- I needed to kill time. I wanted to make you both unaware that you were going to die so that none of you would call for help. So now that you are too weak to move, I am going to watch you die slowly."

Netherlands found the form and took hold of the pen as Hendrik's twitching grew worse.

"In cases of severe hemlock poisoning," Netherlands explained as he began to carefully copy Finland's signature onto the blank line. "Paralysis of the muscles occurs, which leads to respiratory failure, then death. "

He was conscious of Finland going into a seizure. Netherlands signed his own signature then clicked the pen and left it all together. He sat down on the couch, really starting to feel weakness in his muscles now as well as nausea. He vomited over the side of the couch, making sure to hit Hendrik on the floor. Netherlands wiped his lips then felt an incredible thirst and burning fire in his mouth.

Netherlands stumbled back up to his feet and went to find Finland's phone. He then flopped down back beside Finland, who had no strength left to even glance his way. Netherlands opened the phone, knowing the combination after spying on Finland unlocking it in the car. He knew that to save himself; he would have to call for help but he did not want to simply call for an ambulance. He wanted more drama to bring his plan into a better state of completion. He saw that Denmark was the latest number on his log, so he called him then waited.

The call was answered.

"Hey, Finland? How's it going?"

Netherlands dropped the phone onto the floor.

"Finland?" Denmark's voice snaked through. "Did you just butt-dial me?"

Feeling extremely tired, Netherlands flopped over Finland and held him as though in an embrace. To the phone left lying on the carpet, Netherlands emitted a pitiful moan of, "Huh… help us…"

"Netherlands? What- What's going on?"

"Poison… we've been poisoned…" he groaned.

"Oh my god!" Denmark shrieked. "Okay, I'll- I'll get help!"

Finland and the soldier were still alive, but Netherlands knew that even if help arrived while they were still living, they could not be saved. Netherlands enjoyed the benefit of the plant even as he suffered through the symptoms of mild poisoning. He would live if he received respiration support from the hospital, but the other two had ingested too much to be able to survive.

All of this because poison hemlock had no antidote.

"Please..." Netherlands whispered to Denmark as he stared at the completed forms with a grin stretching across his face. "Hurry…"


	12. Chapter 12

Denmark's screeches rang through the halls of the hospital. They were desperate and terrified sounds that were so twisted in agony that it startled all who heard it. Norway fell against the wall sobbing, but Denmark could not stop ripping screams from his throat like a dog howling in pain. He snatched Norway and balled over his shoulder. They both collapsed onto the floor crying and clinging as heads in the waiting room were turned towards them. They noticed nothing else in the world but each other at that point; the rest was crumbling away.

Iceland was dead and now they had just been told that Finland had been lost. Sweden was more unrecoverable than they realized at that moment, but he was still not here with them.

"F-F- _Finland_ …" Denmark squeaked.

Norway hiccuped into him. Denmark clutched the back of his head and pressed the side of their faces together.

"N-Nor…" Denmark whined. "Don't you die… don't, please, please, _please_ \- I'm begging you. It's just us now. I can't take this… not another one… Stay with me… you are all I have left."

"I-I won't die," Norway sniffed weakly. "But you can't either. Please don't do anything stupid..."

They sobbed loudly into each other for a long time, and everyone who was nearby stood helplessly from the indecision of what to do. The nurse had only been able to tell them about Finland and had not yet received the chance to tell them about Netherlands, for her listeners had exploded into grief at the first bit of news. When she tentatively put in the word that he was going to survive, they heard it and stared at her. They had forgotten temporarily about him, but now they quieted slightly in the bit of relief this gave them. The death of Netherlands' guard had already been announced to them, but they could not feel much for a person they had not known.

She took them to Netherlands. Denmark and Norway saw him now for the second time in a hospital, except this time they were face-to-face and not on a screen. Netherlands looked more weary than the last time, flopped so limply that it seemed as though he would never have the strength again to move his muscles. The two Nordics snuck closer and they watched his eyes creak open and focus on them.

Norway and Denmark were still crying. Their tears dropped off their red faces and Netherlands looked down at the splats of wetness that hit the floor. Denmark watched Netherlands' face wrinkle and he believed it to be from a concern for them and a sorrow for what had happened. Denmark murmured to him, "You… are feeling better?"

"Yes," Netherlands whispered weakly.

Netherlands saw Norway's eyes flickering over him as though they were trying to find something but just could not.

Denmark asked in a hoarse voice, "How did this happen?"

He saw Netherlands swallow before he replied, "We ate yesterday's food… There was soup in the fridge and I think that it was poisoned while I was gone. H-Hendrik, he wasn't home all day so someone came in and we never knew…"

Denmark said, "It must have been some of those people in the organization. They broke into my house before and infected Sweden."

Netherlands nodded slowly. He stayed quiet until Denmark asked with increasing difficulty, "D-Did Finland… s-suffer?"

Netherlands put his hand over his face and dipped his head into it. He did not answer. Denmark let out a wail and smacked his hands over his face. He cried into them as Norway shook with a haunted, saturated gaze.

Netherlands whimpered, "I'm s-so s-sorry… I didn't know what was happening until it was t-too late. I-I thought he was only sick. I put a blanket over him and let him lie down b-but then Hendrik came in and collapsed… Then _I_ started feeling so weak so I found Finland's phone. He was still awake so he gave me the password. By the time it was unlocked though, I was just so tired that I couldn't think. I saw your number and called it, but I dropped the phone when I was puking."

Netherlands broke off as his voice became constricted. Denmark and Norway came closer as they saw Netherlands beginning to cry. A moment of sympathy struck them, notably Denmark, as they thought that Netherlands had come so close to death and had been lucky to survive. To them, Netherlands seemed distraught and scared. He had a certain aura that made Denmark feel compelled to comfort him.

"I know you're alone now," Denmark said to him. "You are welcome to come live with us, if you want to."

Netherlands blinked and looked up at him with shining eyes.

"You mean that?" he whispered.

Denmark nodded. Norway did the searching thing with his eyes again on Netherlands, then turned his head and stared at Denmark. Norway parted his mouth as though to say something, but he looked at Netherlands again then closed it, swallowing whatever words he had prepared in his mind.

"Then… please. I would like that."

"Okay. We'll get your stuff once you can get out of here."

Netherlands asked, "Could you stay until then…?"

"Yes," Denmark murmured. He went and pulled a chair up to the side of the bed, and Norway copied him. Netherlands shifted his hand closer to them, and when Denmark saw the marks of fear on his face, he took his hand and held it reassuringly.

"I'm frightened." Netherlands gazed at him with teary eyes and disheveled hair. "They found me and I don't know how. They won't find us, will they?"

"No," Denmark said quietly as he brushed his thumb over the back of his hand. "We'll make sure that we are not followed."

Netherlands closed his eyes and rested his head into the pillow. Denmark continued to hold his hand and smooth his thumb over his skin, hoping that the contact was relaxing to him. While doing this, Denmark started crying softly again as he remembered Finland and his grief for Iceland resurfaced, and it was the same for Norway.

When the time came for them to leave, they helped Netherlands walk slowly back towards their car. The night had passed by then and the outside world was bathed in light. Netherlands stopped at the entrance and scanned around them nervously. Denmark and Norway did the same, then they hurried him into the backseat of their car.

"Okay, help us find your place," Denmark said.

Netherlands gave them directions, peeking out all the windows and watching the yards. They pulled up to Hendrik's house then got out. The place was still unlocked but when they entered, it was empty. There was a foul stench filling the interior, but Netherlands soon explained and revealed to them the puddle of vomit on the carpet.

"I don't know what to do," he said sheepishly. "I can try to clean it up before we go…"

As a group, they found cleaners. Netherlands took them and used them on the carpet. With the help of paper towels, he managed to leave behind only a faint stain. As he had been cleaning however, Norway found the papers on the table and Denmark came over to take a look at them with him.

"Your test papers," Denmark stated in a hushed voice. He had already seen the bandage wrapped around Netherlands' neck so he had known that the test had already been completed on him.

"After we ate," Netherlands affirmed. "We did it."

"Finland signed the top?"

"We were talking," Netherlands said, "and Hendrik came in and said something funny. Finland was laughing and got distracted."

"We need to take these with us." Denmark took the papers from off the table and held them securely between both his hands.

They followed Netherlands as he went upstairs to a bedroom. There was a suitcase in the room, presumably his own, and he began to empty his closet and drawers of all the clothes he had taken to this location. Hidden among the shirts were plastic bags filled with shriveled leaves that Denmark and Norway did not see.

When the suitcase was crammed full with all his things, Denmark took it and loaded it into the car for him. Netherlands locked the door on the way out with a key they had retrieved, then he tossed it neatly under the doormat.

On the drive, Netherlands fell deeply asleep. He lay over the backseat with his seatbelt on, using an arm as a pillow. He did not move at all in the hour that passed before Denmark spoke.

"Norway, you haven't said a word since we've been with Netherlands. What is it?"

Norway hesitated, took a glance at the rear-view mirror, then murmured, "Nothing."

"Do you want to talk about it later?" Denmark briefly glanced over to him with a face of concern.

Norway said, "Yes."

There was a pause before Denmark snuck out, "It has something to do with him?"

"I would rather talk about it alone but… yes. Something just doesn't feel right."

"Hmm." Denmark pursed his lips, signifying his disagreement.

Norway did not want to talk for the rest of the long drive. They listened to the quiet radio as Netherlands continued to sleep undisturbed behind them. When they passed the border into Denmark, it did not take them so long to reach the village the house was located in. They pulled into the driveway and Denmark roused Netherlands.

Once again Denmark took in Netherlands' suitcase for him. He dragged it into a guest room and opened it on the floor. Before Denmark took out all his clothes however, Netherlands insisted, "I will take care of it."

"Okay, we'll leave you to it."

Norway followed Denmark out of the room. Netherlands was left alone to unpack everything as they made it into the kitchen. Norway decided to make something for everyone after seeing Denmark occupying himself with the phone. He stayed quiet as he eavesdropped on Denmark. He tried not to make any clatter in the kitchen as Denmark dealt with funeral arrangements for the second time this season. Norway felt his heart squeezing and he started to cry again over the counter. He could hear Denmark's teary voice and knew that he was suffering just as equally.

Once he was done on the phone, Norway had finished a plate full of sandwiches. He washed his hands at the sink and as he was drying his hands, Denmark came close and whispered, "Will you tell me what's wrong now?"

Norway said quietly, "We shouldn't have let him come with us."

"He needed somewhere to stay," Denmark breathed.

"We can't take risks." Norway stared at him. "Please. You may trust him, but I don't want us to make another mistake. We're the only ones left."

Denmark seemed that he wanted to say many things at once. He began with, "Netherlands has done more tests than anyone else. We haven't done the clearance form thing yet. He is the one taking the risk! He's officially more innocent than us."

"I feel weird." Norway looked to the side. "I know that he did all that but…"

"You don't trust him."

"Please." Norway looked back into his eyes. "Whatever you do, never be alone with him."

"You're being ridiculous!" Denmark whisper-yelled.

"No, I'm not. I'm keeping us safe. We have to watch out for each other."

"He's with us now. I know he's not family, but we have to be a group."

Norway hissed, "Everybody around him died but us. He's here now. What do you think that means?"

"You think he's Five? We have his paper that Finland signed!"

"It's suspicious," he countered. "We should do the test again on him."

Denmark retorted, "You think he'll like you distrusting him? He just got poisoned and is recovering, now you want to offend him?"

"Stop being stupid," Norway muttered. "We have to protect ourselves. Besides, isn't it strange that he survived two attempts on his life?"

"I call that being lucky."

"We are the last two." Norway yanked the drawstrings of Denmark's hoodie so that his face was close to his. He was forced to gaze deep into his eyes to see his fierce seriousness. "I am not losing you because of your own idiocy!"

"But Sweden-"

"Sweden isn't here." Norway lowered his eyebrows. "And he might not come back."

"We're trying to capture them!" Denmark protested.

"In a life or death situation," Norway told him. "No one but us would think twice about killing him. Something might happen and there's nothing we can do because we are here. And because you are here, I am not going to let anyone get you. So can't you just promise that you won't leave my side, idiot?"

"I..." Denmark hesitated. Norway pulled the drawstrings further as encouragement so that he coughed out, "I promise."

Norway released him, muttering, "Me too."

Denmark stood up straight and loosened the cloth around his neck. Norway quickly hugged him while he was doing this then walked away to the fridge as though it never happened. Denmark blinked after him, then they heard footsteps coming down the stairs seconds before Netherlands appeared.

"Can I ask something of you?" Netherlands spoke up while looking between them both.

"Yeah, of course," Denmark answered.

"Don't tell anyone I am here."

"I wasn't going to," Denmark replied. "Because we don't know who Number Five is, I wasn't going to post where you were going for anyone to see. By the end of the week though, when everyone has done their tests, I will do it."

Norway gave him a shocked look. He said, "We should tell at least someone. When we tell people what happened to Finland, like Estonia- we should mention it."

"Why?" Netherlands demanded.

Norway was sure that a glare of irritation was sent his way, but Denmark did not see it the same way he did.

"Nor, we can't trust the others yet anyways," Denmark said. "And I thought we were going to avoid posting anything in case we got tracked down?"

"Then Finland's just going to be a secret?" Norway raised his eyebrows.

"Well, yeah-" Denmark looked back at him with equal surprise. "Until the end of the week, that is."

Nothing he said satisfied Norway.

"I can tell my boss, but I don't trust anyone else," Netherlands stated.

"Why do you trust us then?" Norway shot back.

"Nor…" Denmark wrinkled his face.

"You were the ones who supported me whenever it got hard," Netherlands replied steadily.

"Let's just eat, guys! Come on!" Denmark interjected as he snatched the sandwich plate.

Norway dipped his head slightly and scanned Netherlands again. He did nothing to provoke him. Norway sighed then fetched everyone glasses from the cupboard.

* * *

"Norway, what are you doing?"

Denmark blinked rapidly as Norway followed him back to his room. They had just been in the bathroom brushing their teeth side-by-side, but now Norway had turned right inside of left, going in the opposite direction from his bedroom.

"We made a promise," he replied.

Denmark asked as Norway walked past him inside, "So you're going to sleep here?"

Norway crawled under the covers of one side of Denmark's bed, muttering, "Yes."

"Okay…" Denmark closed the door behind him.

"Lock the door."

"I did."

Norway uttered, "The bedroom door."

"The bedroom door?"

"Yes."

"Why?" Denmark tilted his head.

"Do it."

Denmark understood. He locked it with the key that had been sticking out from the handle, then he took it with him and put in on the headboard. He went back, turned off the light, then navigated through the darkness back to the bed. The bed squeaked once as he slid into the other side.

"You don't trust him at all," Denmark whispered.

"You are the only one I can trust," was the quiet reply he received.

"Locking that door means you think he would attack us in our sleep."

"He might."

Denmark paused then sighed lightly. "I guess it doesn't hurt to be careful," he conceded. "But try not to be so rude to his face, alright? His request wasn't so strange, you know. You didn't need to do what you did."

Norway rolled onto his side and faced away from Denmark. He said nothing. He closed his weary eyes and took notice of the softness of the blankets securing him. He was much more comfortable, he realized, with the knowledge that Denmark had locked the door. He could hear right now the sound of water running as Netherlands used the bathroom, a sound that felt nicely far away from them.

Denmark shifted in the bed then exhaled in a gentler tone, "Goodnight, Nor."

Norway immediately whispered back, "Goodnight."

They both lay there for a while, unable to sleep and knowing that the other was having the same difficulty. They said nothing though to each other, trying only to slip into the darkness behind their eyelids. When Norway heard Denmark sniff every minute or so, he knew he was crying again. After that realization, he was struck with the same sorrow and could not avoid mirroring him. He thought of Iceland and Finland until eventually he fell asleep with a hot, soaked face.

It was after three o'clock that a noise woke Norway. He rolled over sluggishly and checked on Denmark. That was where the sound had come from. Denmark was lying on his back and as he watched, Denmark whined again, "No… No…"

Norway was trying to figure out if he should wake him up. His eyes got used to the dim light and he could see now how scrunched up Denmark's face was and how tears were constantly pouring out from his closed eyes. He waited to see if Denmark would quiet down on his own, but he did not.

It became worse. Denmark tossed himself side-to-side, clutching the blankets as he sought something to hold and weep into. His speech became clearer as it got louder. Now Norway heard mixed in with his whimpers of "no" other words.

" _You can't be dead, please, no… Norway… You weren't supposed to die..._ "

Norway sat up.

" _Norway… no, no, why? Norway…_ "

Norway shook him. Denmark woke with a gasp and felt around for him. He grabbed his arm, squeezed, then let go of it.

"Oh my god," Denmark wheezed. "You're okay."

"Yes," Norway breezed, unsure of what to say in this situation.

"I had this horrible nightmare that you died," Denmark whispered with a strained voice. "I could see your body and it seemed so real that I didn't realize…"

"It was a dream."

"Yeah…" he sighed.

"Don't worry about me," Norway said. "I can take care of myself. You don't need to be scared."

"I can't help it. We've lost so many that I just can't lose you. I don't know what I would do if I was the only one left. I don't think I could keep living."

Norway knew he could not argue with him about this. These were his unshakable feelings. Denmark was so attached to them, his family, that Norway knew that he could not carry on being the last one. He said instead, "I won't leave your side until all this is over. I promised and you promised. Go back to sleep now."

Denmark wordlessly nestled back into the mattress. Norway turned onto his back and tried to sleep in this position this time. He waited for sleep to come, but he felt fully awake now. He lay there hoping that he would become drowsy but an hour passed and nothing happened. He knew that Denmark was asleep now based on how slowly he was breathing. Norway even tried copying his breathing pattern, but it did nothing.

Norway sat up and checked the time. By now his eyes were even more adapted to the darkness and the light of the digits on the alarm clock was a sharp glare. He looked around them, at the sea of blankets crumpled in waves over their legs, then at the furniture. He glanced at Denmark then when a creak sounded, he flashed his head towards the door.

At first he doubted what he was seeing, but then he became deathly sure. The door handle was being pressed down. The lock held it, then the handle went back to its original position and stayed there. Norway was rigid in the bed, staring at the door in horror.

He grabbed Denmark again, shaking him while hissing, "Wake up!"

Denmark stirred, then yawned, "What?"

"Netherlands," Norway whispered urgently. "He just tried to get into the room!"

Denmark sat up and flopped, catching his face with his hands then rubbing it with his fingers.

"What do ya mean?" he grumbled tiredly.

"I saw the door handle move," Norway murmured lowly.

"Mmm…" he trailed off as his eyes closed.

Norway slammed a pillow into his face. Denmark was startled and his eyes shot open. He whirled around and faced Norway, shocked when he saw him quivering and regarding him with large, terrified eyes.

"What's going on?" Denmark asked.

Norway became more distressed. Denmark did not know what was happening, but Norway's behavior was strange and beginning to scare him.

"We can't live with him!" Norway cried out, although still quietly so his voice would not penetrate the walls. "Netherlands is trying to kill us!"

"Come on, Norway, you can't say that."

"Someone just tried to get into our room," Norway stressed. "If I hadn't gotten you to lock that door…!"

Denmark saw fresh tears cascading from his face. He said, "Alright. I can check it out, okay?"

"No!" Norway choked. "The light switch is far from our room- it's too dark in the hall. You have to stay in here."

Norway was crying harder and Denmark was bewildered. He could not believe how stressed Norway was becoming about this. He told him, "Nor, it might have just been a bad dream. I just had one. Look how tired you are; you're just crying all over the place. You can't be thinking straight."

"I know what I saw," Norway growled. "You have to believe me. Netherlands… It's Netherlands…"

"Calm down," Denmark murmured.

Norway grew frustrated when he was told to calm down. He did not realize how deeply he was breathing and how much it was concerning Denmark. He hissed, "You don't understand! He's trying to kill us but you don't even believe me!"

"I believe you, okay? And I'll stay here until it's morning. Then we'll confront him together, alright?" Denmark tried to soothe him. "But we might be wrong too. Don't you know how tired you are? I'm serious, your emotions are just nuts right now."

"I have a legitimate reason to be like this!"

"Shhh. "

"Don't shush me!" Norway snarled. "You dumb Dane!"

"There's nothing we can do right now," Denmark exhaled. "We just have to hang tight, so we might as well get some sleep."

"I'm not just going to sleep!"

"Please," Denmark whispered. "You're freaking me out. Relax, okay? For me. We're safe in here."

Norway held his tongue and stared intently at the door. Denmark sighed and plopped back down in defeat. He could not force Norway to sleep. Denmark pulled the blanket back over himself then went off into a doze.

Norway sat upright and watched with his heavily ringed eyes. He strained his ears to listen for any sound of soft footfalls. He had started to feel his exhaustion after Denmark had mentioned it, but he forced himself through it. He felt himself becoming more jittery from an anxiety that increased with his tiredness. He acknowledged partially what Denmark had said, that his exhaustion was causing him to be abnormally emotional. Yesterday had been difficult and he was under so much stress that it was ripping him from the inside out, but he was just so afraid they would make another mistake like they had with Finland.

They had been too trusting and now he was gone. No matter what would come, Norway refused to allow Denmark or himself to make the same mistake again. He stayed up the entire night focusing on the door, but no matter how tired he became, the handle did not move again. He knew with all of his being that he had not imagined earlier, the door handle moving when someone had tried to get inside their room.

* * *

When morning came, Denmark unlocked the door and peeked in both directions down the hall. Downstairs in the kitchen, he heard the fridge door slam shut. Netherlands was already up and going about his business. Denmark looked back to Norway dubiously, his face showing how he was now unsure of what Norway had said last night. It was much easier to doubt him now based on how sleep-deprived Norway appeared.

"Let me do the talking," Denmark decided to say.

"I did not imagine it!" Norway snapped.

Denmark did not want to argue again. He loaded his arms with clothes then left. While he was in the bathroom, Norway was in his previous bedroom next door, getting dressed with the door locked. When Denmark came out changed and with his hair styled into its wild norm, Norway went inside and Denmark waited for him. After, they both entered the kitchen together.

Netherlands was no longer in the kitchen, but they could see him in the dining room with a bowl of cereal and a glass of orange juice. The laptop that he had packed was now out and open beside him. Norway jolted, and Netherlands noticed this as he looked up to them.

"Morning," Netherlands greeted them.

"A-Ah… Good morning," Denmark replied. He looked at Norway in discomfort once Netherlands looked back down to his bowl. Norway glared back expectantly.

"So…" Denmark started.

Netherlands said at the same time, "You have to work today?"

Denmark widened his eyes. "Oh- that's right! I forgot about it all!"

He had a rushed facial expression now and Norway knew that he wanted to scarf down his breakfast before hurrying to his computer. He reminded Denmark to confront Netherlands with a nudge to his ribs.

"So," Denmark tried again. "We were wondering if you were up last night."

"Huh?" Netherlands looked at him with a blatant look of confusion and displeasure.

"We heard something so…" Denmark did not want to be specific and accuse him of trying to get into their room. Netherlands looked so puzzled and Norway so crazed that Denmark felt fixed in an awkward position.

"Oh, wait. I got hungry during the night so I went downstairs and had some milk. You must have heard me doing that."

Denmark and Norway looked to the right simultaneously. On the dish drying rack beside the sink there was indeed a solitary, cleaned glass there. Denmark was convinced enough, now staring back at Norway with a piteous look that he despised. Norway shot a glare at Netherlands, his eyes sharpened from the darkness under them. He spat, "You tried to get into our room! You are Number Five and you cheated that test!"

Netherlands rose from his chair as anger crossed his face. "What the hell did you just say?"

Denmark jumped in between them. "Whoa, whoa, no fighting!" he gasped before he turned to Norway and said more quietly, "Nor, I think you imagined all that. You stayed up all night so…"

"No." Norway looked past him. "I want Netherlands to do the same test again."

"How dare you," Netherlands hissed. "After everything I went through, you- you think that I did everything?"

Denmark said, "Norway, that's enough. This is why I was supposed to talk. Don't you realize how big of an accusation that is? You're saying that he killed Finland!"

"Do the test! That's all I want, then if I am wrong, I will apologize! But not before that!" Norway cried.

"Fine!" Netherlands hollered. "If you want me to do it, I will!"

Netherlands got up and stomped to the kitchen. He shoved past them and yanked open the drawers, searching for the knives. When he found them, he selected a small one, knelt, and lifted down his scarf. He felt around for the cut Finland had given him and he positioned the knife over it.

Norway hurried over behind him. Netherlands stood up abruptly and glared at him when he came near.

"Wait a second," Netherlands uttered. "I still don't know if you are infected or not."

He moved the knife away from his neck, making it appear as though he had feared that Norway had come over to hit it into him while he was doing the test.

"You might just be framing me." Netherlands bared his teeth. "You want to turn Denmark against me!"

"No," Norway hissed.

"It might be you," Netherlands growled. "Trying to trick Denmark into helping take me down so you could kill us both! Then when everyone asks what happened, you could blame that he and I killed each other. You were just waiting until someone else showed up, weren't you, so that you could get Denmark without anyone suspecting you?"

"That's not true. You are lying!" Norway snarled. "Denmark-"

He looked back to Denmark and saw him regarding him with fright.

"No, you can't believe him!" Norway gasped with exasperation.

"But you've been acting strange, especially last night…" Denmark replied.

"Because our family is falling apart and you are so stupid!" Fury burst in Norway. "Don't you know how stressful it is trying to protect you? It is your fault I am acting this way! You are the one who believes him over me- the person who you are supposed to be closer to!"

"Okay, okay." Denmark approached Norway. "I'm sorry. I don't believe you want to kill me. But still, we should all do the test so that everyone feels safe. It will be easier in this house without this drama. You know what? I can go first."

Netherlands huffed. Denmark knelt down and stretched out his neck. Netherlands came up behind him, but Norway dove in and grabbed his wrist.

"Don't touch him," he uttered.

Netherlands looked infuriated. His eyes blazed and he slammed the knife on the counter and stormed out of the room, yelling, "Do it yourselves, then!"

Norway called after him, "Get back-"

Denmark stood up. "Norway, you have to stop. You're going too far."

Norway looked as though he was about to snap something at him. Denmark caught him in a hug and sighed, "You're too scared for me."

Norway squirmed. Denmark held on tighter until he gave up and leaned into him with a sullen expression.

"We'll all do the test. You can relax now," Denmark told him.

"Mmm."

He let go. Denmark knelt down again and Norway picked up the knife. He sliced carefully through his skin, uncomfortable seeing Denmark's blood oozing out the cut. He reached over, took a napkin, and dabbed it away before it got on his white shirt. They switched, and when Denmark found that Norway was clear, he felt the need to hold him again and apologize repeatedly until he wiggled out of his grasp.

Norway came into the dining room where Netherlands was sitting again.

"Your turn," he said.

Netherlands had a neutral expression but now it turned back to rage.

"If you don't believe my paper and are just going to accuse me like everyone else did, I am leaving!" he snarled.

Denmark exclaimed, "Just this, then we'll stop!"

Netherlands closed his laptop and stood up. "I'm done," he muttered. "I'm fed up with this."

He went upstairs to his room, taking the computer with him. Denmark panicked and went after him as he started packing his suitcase.

"Come on, don't leave," Denmark rushed. "This will only take a minute!"

Netherlands stopped to glare at him, ignoring Norway for the moment.

"I expected better of you," Netherlands stated. "That's why I came here. You comforted me and helped me so much that I thought that at least you were going to trust me. You stood up for me, but now you betray me."

He continued packing. Denmark became more distressed.

"Please, don't do this!" he gasped. "Stop making me choose between you two- when you are both saying different things I have to take a side, but I just can't!"

"You shouldn't have to think about it," Norway muttered. "Trust me."

Netherlands cast the last of his clothes into the suitcase. He zipped it up and said, "Goodbye."

Denmark gawked after him, then called as Netherlands went down the stairs with his luggage, "No, you can't go! It's not safe to walk around by yourself!"

Norway said, "He can't go. I'm calling the police and I want him to stay here until they arrive."

Norway took off his hair clip. Denmark sprang at him and snatched it from his hands, crying out, "No, Norway!"

Netherlands turned back and observed them. Norway gritted his teeth as Denmark pleaded, "Let's make this work. For everyone's sake, we have to stay together. No more fighting. Netherlands already did the test, so let's leave it at that. Norway, we will still stick together so there's nothing to worry about even if you feel like we are in danger. Can't we do this?"

Netherlands hesitated, then nodded slowly. Norway took another second after to decide, then he grabbed Denmark's arm and uttered, "Do not even think for a moment of leaving my side."

That seemed to settle it. Denmark sighed in relief and gave Norway his hair clip back. Norway clipped it back into place as Netherlands came back up the stairs.

Netherlands slid the suitcase back into his room, quickly took his laptop out from it, before he returned to the table downstairs. Denmark and Norway headed after him, but Norway tugged a key from his pocket and unlocked the door to his left once Netherlands was out of sight. He pulled Denmark into the room, closed and locked the door again, then turned on the light.

Norway walked to the dresser across the room. He slid open the drawer and took out two loaded pistols.

"I want you to always have one on you," Norway said.

"Um…"

"Put it in your pocket and wear one of your sweaters. He doesn't have to know."

Denmark took the pistol. Norway was already wearing a loose, cozy hoodie to cope with the cool September air. He stuffed it in his pocket then covered most of the bulge with the sweater. He and Denmark left the room, with Norway turning off the light and locking the door again behind him. Denmark slipped himself into a loose sweater after, then he and Norway went to finally have breakfast.

* * *

Denmark worked frantically on his computer for the afternoon, trying to make up for the lost time. Norway, also busy, sat cross-legged on his bed beside him typing rapidly. Netherlands was assumed to be downstairs completing an assignment as well, because he had not left his computer since the argument had ended. Norway felt his exhaustion encroaching on him, but Denmark bouncing on the bed to the music he was playing aloud kept him awake.

When it became later, they heard action in the kitchen. Norway got up and Denmark trailed him as they went down. Netherlands was setting out a pot and a pan, but Norway came up to him and said, "I will cook."

"It's no problem. Allow me," Netherlands argued.

"No. I want to."

Netherlands did not seem so thrown off, but Norway swore that he had seen brief irritation appear on his face.

"Suit yourself," was what he replied with before he stalked away.

Norway felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise. He had no proof, but he was sure that he had just thwarted something, if that micro-expression Netherlands had just displayed indicated anything. Denmark moved in to help him cook, and Norway felt contentment stir in his heart because the person beside him was still safe.

Eating at the table with each other seemed uncomfortable for all. No one said anything for the longest time, until Netherlands asked slowly, as if nervous to mention it, "When will the funeral be?"

"We'll try getting there the day after tomorrow," Denmark murmured. "We'll have to book plane tickets- I forgot."

"Alright. I will do that," Netherlands replied.

Norway narrowed his eyes. He knew that if Netherlands had technology in him, it would be detected at airport security. He thought, _He would have to attack us before then. His deadline is less than two days._

He could not say this aloud, but he looked at Denmark and tried blinking in a certain way to show his concern. He wanted to warn Denmark, and fortunately he understood this time. Denmark gave him a reassuring look and Norway relaxed.

"You really want to come?" Denmark asked.

"Please," Netherlands said. "May I?"

"Of course."

They all went silent again. Afterwards, Netherlands did the dishes for them and Norway and Denmark went back to the bedroom. They picked up where they left off until fifteen minutes later, when Netherlands showed up at the door.

"I messed up the oven. Can someone help me?"

He was looking at Denmark. He glanced up and replied, "Sure, hold on- I have to finish this. Ten minutes?"

"Norway?" Netherlands asked.

"I could go," he said, "but not without Denmark. Wait."

"Serious?" Netherlands frowned.

"Yes. Wait. When he is done, we will go down."

Netherlands turned around and left, but not before Norway espied another flash of irritation on his face. He had stopped something again, he was sure of it. He became even more certain when they came downstairs, and Netherlands told them, "I figured it out. Everything is fine now."

Norway saw a full mixing bowl. Netherlands was baking something, which he would not interrupt, although he had no intention of eating the finished product. He would not let Denmark eat it either even if he wanted to. They went back upstairs and worked with the sounds in the kitchen muffled by the music.

Denmark managed to type in beat with his swaying. He was quite awake and focused, but once he looked over at Norway, he found him bent over his laptop with his eyes closed. Denmark smiled and turned down his music before moving his computer off his lap. He then leaned over and pulled away Norway's laptop. He closed it, put it to the side, then pulled the blanket back. He yanked it from under Norway, who did not wake up from this, nor when Denmark stretched him out. He tucked a pillow under his head, placed the blanket back over him, then let him sleep beside him as he continued working.

He did not want to wake him, knowing that it would be pointless for Norway to work when he was this tired. Denmark typed away until footsteps came up the stairs. Netherlands was back at the doorway, about to say something before he saw Norway and changed his question.

"He fell asleep?"

"Yeah," Denmark whispered. "He was up all night."

"Why?"

"Stress." Denmark looked back at Norway fondly. "He needs this."

"I made danishes." Netherlands looked away as though embarrassed. "Or, well, I tried to."

"Oh, nice!"

"Want to try one? I hope they're alright."

Denmark stared at him uncertainly. He asked quietly, "Could you just fetch some?"

"I… wanted to talk to you," Netherlands said. "In private."

Denmark felt the weight of the pistol in his pocket that he was sure that Netherlands was unaware of. He thought that he could keep his senses sharp, if that was any excuse to be able to leave Norway. Denmark still could not bring himself to distrust Netherlands, based on how much closer they seemed to have gotten lately. He had seen Netherlands cry about Luxembourg and Finland as well. He could not get a picture in his head of Netherlands being Number Five. He quietly left the room and Norway on the bed.

Netherlands led him to the danishes that were cooling. He picked two and put them on a big plate, obtained two smaller plates, then carried everything to the table. Denmark sat in his spot from before, with his back to the kitchen, but Netherlands sat at the end of the table beside him where Norway had been before.

"Okay, what is it?" Denmark asked.

"I just wanted to talk about Norway. Why doesn't he trust me at all?"

"I'm sorry," Denmark sighed. "I've talked to him about it and I'm sure I will have to again, but please don't blame him. It's not that he wants to be rude. He is just really stressed- I told you already that he couldn't sleep last night."

"What did you tell him?" Netherlands inquired.

"We talked about your form and who you've lost. He doesn't want to listen to it though, but give him time," Denmark assured him. "He lost his brother and Finland, and he gave up on Sweden. He is afraid to lose me too, so that's why he's like this."

"He didn't want me to come here."

"No," Denmark exhaled, "but it's nothing personal. He just cares so much."

"Okay."

Denmark put a danish on his plate and Netherlands took the other one. Denmark waited until he saw Netherlands take a bite first and swallow it, then he did the same. He thought that Norway would have wanted him to do that at least.

"I can relate," Netherlands said quietly. "He is holding up well though, despite losing his sibling."

"He is strong-willed," Denmark told him. "But it is hard."

Netherlands took another bite, then said, "I try to cope by hoping that Belgium is still out there. No one's found a body yet, so…"

Denmark kept his mouth shut.

Netherlands cleared his throat, then asked timidly, "So, it is okay?"

"What?"

"The danish."

"Oh yeah- you did really good!"

Netherlands smiled. "Thank you."

Denmark was relaxing. There was a level of understanding forming between them, or so it seemed. Denmark felt as though he was getting special insider's information about Netherlands' feelings. He was startled though, when Netherlands asked, "Why are you carrying a gun?"

Denmark blushed. "You noticed?"

"Yes."

"Sorry again. It makes Norway feel better if I have it."

"Hmm."

"Try to understand…"

Netherlands said, "I do."

They had finished their danishes. Netherlands asked, "Would you like more?"

"Oh-"

"I'll get more."

Denmark shrugged. "Alright."

Netherlands took the large plate and went into the kitchen. He took a few seconds, then came back and set them on the table. Before he sat down however, he halted beside Denmark.

"Wait. I want to tell you a secret," Netherlands said as he lowered his voice.

"What is it?" Denmark whispered.

Netherlands leaned in and put a hand on his opposite shoulder. He dropped his mouth by his ear then murmured, "I wanted you to know, that last month... _I killed Sweden_."

He reveled in the utter shock that petrified Denmark. His eyes went round and his jaw dropped. For a second, he could not think or do a thing. Netherlands took the opportunity to let the knife slide down his sleeve into his hand. The hand on his shoulder tightened its grip. Before he could make a sound, he sliced Denmark's throat. Blood splurted across the tablecloth and Denmark bent forward. Netherlands clutched him and brought the knife back, placing it into the cut and slicing deeper into him.

Denmark twitched in his tight hold, unable to move as the blade sawed into him. Thick scarlet ran down his front until a soaking bib of blood stained his sweater. Denmark's hand strayed to his gun, but Netherlands put his foot onto the chair and stepped on him. Netherlands looked over his terrified face as he cut through his tissue, smirking at the way he was crying. Blood squirted onto his smile and he could not bring himself to mind.

A gunshot echoed in the house. Netherlands choked and fell away from Denmark. He stumbled backwards, turning his head to stare at the blood spreading across his left ribs. He held the knife still, but he put his hands over the wound. Netherlands then tilted his head up as from the living room, Norway fired again and another bullet was shot into his shoulder. Netherlands hollered then hurried to the kitchen for cover.

Netherlands dripped a trail of blood on the tiles. He tripped and lay on the floor, bleeding and gasping until Norway charged in with a chair raised. Netherlands cried out when Norway smashed it down and broke it on his body. He screamed as Norway took a detached chair leg and stabbed the point into his quadriceps, turning it and driving it deeper into his leg until the wood hit his bone.

This was not enough. Nothing was enough. Norway took another chair leg and bludgeoned Netherlands with it. He beat his face and body repeatedly, striking flesh until it broke open with the help of the jagged, wooden end that tore and left slivers. Norway hit his shoulder's bullet wound and Netherlands shrieked. As he writhed, Norway whacked the back of his head as hard as he could. Netherlands went limp. Norway kicked his back, dropped the chair leg on his temple, then raced back to the dining room.

Denmark had fallen on the floor. He was holding his neck, curled around his hands and lying in an expanding puddle of blood. Norway snatched the dry towels from the kitchen and knelt on both knees beside him. He put the towels over Denmark's hands. Denmark moved them out of the way and Norway pressed the towels into the cut.

"Hold them," Norway whispered. Denmark did. Norway scrambled into the living room, took the white blanket, then hurried back. Denmark had already bled through the towels. Norway quickly wrapped the blanket over top of them, carefully raising Denmark's head as he did so, then setting it back down. He and Denmark both pressed the blanket in, putting pressure on the cut.

"You'll be okay," Norway murmured. "I won't let you die."

He took his hands off to take his hair clip: his cellphone. He called for help, checking that Netherlands was still on the floor struggling with his breaths. Norway put one hand back on the blanket, over Denmark's fingers, helping him again. Once he hung up, he put both of his hands down and pressed in.

Denmark breathed slowly, but the rate was steady. Norway felt relief. He lay down beside him on the floor, not paying any mind to the blood. He put an arm under Denmark and held the back of his neck. His other hand had a better angle now, and holding it against the cut was easier. Denmark straightened his body and shifted closer to him. He moved one hand away from his throat so he could put his arm around Norway and spread his fingers over his back.

Then as they lay on the floor, hysterical laughter emanated from the kitchen. Norway lifted his head as Netherlands swayed on his feet, blood leaking out from all over him. Netherlands tilted his head back and laughed to the ceiling. His mouth was stretched wide, flashing his red-soaked teeth. Netherlands then snapped forward to cough a glob of black blood onto the floor, but he immediately continued chortling.

No matter how he gasped for breath, his amusement that had no origin could not end. Netherlands shuffled away, dragging the leg behind him that still had the wood sticking out from it. His laughs went shrill as he limped out of the kitchen. Norway stared at the bloody mess stuck to Netherlands' hair at the back of his head before he got out of sight. He thought then that he had certainly not cured Netherlands. The hit to his head had made his mind even more deranged.

Denmark looked at him in fear. Norway lay back down as he heard Netherlands going out the front door. He told Denmark, "Don't worry. He won't get far the way he is."

Denmark held him tighter. Norway moved his hand behind him up, and he started to run his fingers through his hair and carefully stroke the back of his head. He knew it was comforting to him. Denmark rested and his breaths that were still steady were gentle on Norway's hair. Norway closed his eyes as he did, gladdened that Denmark was still warm and alive here with him.

Norway could not however, understand why Denmark was still silently crying. He thought that it must be because of the pain of the wound, but only later would he come to know that his tears existed for another reason entirely.


	13. Chapter 13

The evening sky was streaked with apricot and pink. The clouds were illuminated with the spectacular colours and the sun became a lowering glare of orange. Austria braved stepping out in front of the window to take a glance at the sunset. He was still nervous around windows, although he found that going outside and being around Switzerland brought him less fear. He was however, reassuring himself that no one knew where they were, as he stood in front of the glass and checked quickly for perching snipers.

France and Liechtenstein were further in the background, on the couch watching television. Liechtenstein was sitting neatly with her hands on her lap as she regarded the screen while France was at the end with his elbow on the couch's arm. Both did not take much notice of Austria as he hung alone on the other side of the room. No one spoke; there was an air of expectation as they awaited the return of the missing member of the household, Switzerland, who was attending another therapy class.

Austria observed the glow of colours in the sky fading slowly. As shadows lengthened, a small shape dropped from the branches of a neighbor's tree. It swept upwards and flew in a beeline towards the window. Austria peered to recognize the form of a little bird with an entirely yellow plumage. He feared it was about to crash into the glass, but it slowed then landed on the window pane to tilt its head expectantly at him.

He widened his eyes and put a hand against the glass despite that it was but a barrier between his fingers and the bird. Austria breathed, "Oh my…" while Germany's retriever happened to pad by at this time and upon sight of the bird, stopped and wagged his fluffy tail.

Austria unlocked the window. France and Liechtenstein looked over in curiosity as the window was opened and the yellow bird was seen fluttering in to land on Austria's index finger.

"That's Prussia's bird!" France exclaimed.

"Yes… It is," Austria replied.

Its feathers were in rough shape, as though they have not been preened properly in a while. The bird was not fluffy and plump like it used to be. Now, it was lean and it looked quite weary as though it had been eroded by the wind.

"Poor thing," Liechtenstein crooned.

Austria nodded. "It flew here… It must have been looking for us for a long time."

He carried the bird to the kitchen. He located a half-filled bag of sunflower seeds and he poured them onto the counter. Liechtenstein and France had followed him in and they now helped deshell the seeds. The bird hopped onto the counter and accepted the offerings they slid towards it. France put water into a bowl then introduced it to the bird. Understanding, it hopped into it, drank some of the water and flapped in it to clean itself off.

"Why did it come all this way to find us?" Liechtenstein asked.

France said, "Do you think it wanted someone to take care of it?"

Austria jolted. He stared at the others and gasped with sudden excitement, "No- what if it is something else entirely! What if- what if Prussia is alive!"

France stammered, "But you know what happened to him! He couldn't have survived that! He didn't survive it... They checked him, pronounced him dead and everything, and he was buried. You don't think he would have healed and crawled out of his grave like a zombie, do you?"

"No, not like that." Austria was quick to respond. "But you know what we are and how we are different from our citizens. How can any of us just disappear so easily when our countries still exist and prosper? It should be impossible, right? We need to exist. We will come back until our entire country falls… I never wanted to believe Hungary would be gone forever, and now I know my hopes were not just pointless. I bet this bird came to find us because Prussia is back!"

France tried to caution him, "The bird doesn't confirm anything-"

There was a knock at the door. Liechtenstein skittered to it, checked through the peephole, then unlocked it to let Switzerland in. She soon pulled him to the kitchen and showed him the bird in the bowl. He recognized it as well, and his eyebrows went up.

"Prussia's bird?"

Austria turned around to face him. With his face set in utter seriousness, he stated, "Prussia is back."

"What? He is?" Switzerland yelped.

"We don't know that for sure," France added. "If he was back, why wouldn't he say so? This bird was flying around for a long time. Weeks maybe."

"Prussia isn't usually quiet," Liechtenstein quietly imputed.

"Now wait," Switzerland said, "how could he come back? He was definitely dead. I know how he died. It was messy. Gory. His brain was on the road. So if you haven't seen him, tell me, how can he be alive?"

"Look," Austria sighed, "none of us know why we are on this world. We appear out of nowhere right into life. We are like regular people- we need to eat, we bleed, we have emotions, but we heal faster and live longer. Nothing was ever explained to us, so don't expect me to explain it to you."

"So he popped back up, you think?" Switzerland asked. "Then is it the same Prussia? Does he have his memories?"

"It could be why he hasn't contacted anyone," France said. "If it isn't the same person, he wouldn't know what is happening."

Liechtenstein frowned. "If it isn't the same Prussia," she said, "then it really isn't Prussia at all. He would still be dead."

Austria seemed not to have thought of that. His excited face dropped, and he murmured lowly, "Oh… I hope it isn't that way. I hope he has his memories or else… it isn't him."

They all went silent and took time to watch the bird standing on the counter, running its beak through its feathers and setting them into alignment.

"Well, the bird seems to want us to find him," Switzerland said, "or else it wouldn't have gone trying to find us. If Prussia was okay with his memories, it would have stayed with him. Something isn't right. He probably has no idea of what is going on."

"Then whether it is our old Prussia or not, we have to help him," France told them. "If that terrorist organization finds out they can't snuff us out, they might just catch us instead!"

"Putting us behind bars forever where we can't be found…" Switzerland muttered. "No. We need to find him, that is for sure. The bird should be able to help us do it."

"I will drive to Germany and start there," Austria said. "If he is further away, I'll figure it out."

"I can come with you," Switzerland said. "You shouldn't go alone. I can protect you."

Liechtenstein piped up, "What should I do?"

"Four is too many," Switzerland replied. "Besides, we know for sure that there are a lot of German followers of this organization. They're even in the military and they broke Germany out. When we're looking around, we can't attract attention. Even disguised, we could get caught and I know they would do horrible things to us. I don't want you coming along, Liechtenstein. Stay hidden here."

She did not argue. France understood as well that he would stay behind from what Switzerland had said. France only told them, "It might take a while. I can give you both some money to pay for food, hotel rooms, and whatever else you may need."

"Thank you," Austria exhaled. "When we find him, no matter who he is, we'll take him back here."

"If it took some time for him to come back," France said, "then everyone else will start appearing after him. If the bird left once he appeared, which might have been weeks ago, then that could mean Iceland is already back too."

"I don't want to get Denmark and Norway's hopes up by telling them he's back if he's not," Austria admitted. "I'd hate to be wrong and hurt them more after they just found out about Sweden."

"Netherlands…" Switzerland frowned. "Sneaky guy… responsible for four deaths, minimum. We'll have to watch out for him."

Liechtenstein gasped, "But isn't he really hurt?"

"Yeah," Switzerland said, "but we recover fast. That was three days ago, so I assume he can walk again. And if he is well enough to do that, he can travel, follow, trap, and shoot. He could be heading anywhere and no one even knows where Germany and Russia are anymore. But if they hear about Prussia, I am sure we'll clash in Germany."

"Then it is a race," France summed up, "to get Prussia before anyone finds out about him."

"If he looks the same, he is _very_ recognizable," Austria said. "We have to go, immediately."

"Pack and I will get you cash," France announced.

Austria looked back to Switzerland, realizing now that he was going to have to be alone with him on a road trip. He checked his face, but when it was calm and looking Switzerland-like, it was hard to connect it to the memory of the rage-twisted version of him that had mowed down Hungary with a machine gun. His voice was also normal and not screeching horrible threats. Despite what had happened, it was easy to differentiate the Switzerland of the current moment to the host the organization had occupied.

He was not afraid. Austria imagined seeing the faces again outside of photographs, of Prussia, Hungary, Kugelmugel, and the rest of those who had been lost whom he had not been as particularly close to. He went and got ready with Switzerland with his heart picking up once again in elation.

 _Prussia_ … he thought. _Please… let him be back then everyone else too!_

* * *

 _How?_

Locked doors, soldier guards, traps, and alarms made up the house. Netherlands lay behind a bush with his stiff leg stretched out behind him and the other folded under his body. He spied on Latvia's house, the home of four targets that practically never left the premises. He could not catch them about. He could not walk up to the door and sweet-talk his way into their trust; he knew he had made an irreversible error and now the whole world knew what he was.

His body ached from all his healing wounds. After he had been picked up by followers who had been close by on call, they had been able to replace the vile that Norway had broken in his head. They then dictated the next place he was going to. Nothing, they had said, had to change. The mission was the same even if they had lost the advantage that Netherlands had been trying so hard to keep. He had to plan how to bring an end to the nations and fulfill the dirty work they wanted him to do. He would just had to learn how to be crafty and fast, striking then disappearing like Germany and Russia.

He had only had the time in the car to heal. He wanted to wait longer to recover before he attacked, but they insisted that he needed not worry because he would not be likely to engage in physical combat. Getting into the house was out of the question, he had been told. He would have to find a way to poison them.

He wondered again, _How?_ as he had been in the two days he had spent observing the household. The soldiers were the ones who took turns going to the grocery store and not one of them were members of Fire and Brimstone. In fact, it seemed there were not any members around here at all to help him. He might be alone to take down these four in one fell swoop with the single bag of hemlock that he still had only because he had always been carrying it around Denmark and Norway's place.

He was too weak to win in a fight and the soldiers were always armed. He could not walk up to one without being shot and even if he tried being stealthy and killing the soldier, the food would not make it into the house. The body would be found, they would know Netherlands was around, and they definitely would not touch the fallen food.

 _This is impossible_ , he mentally growled. _We need to bomb the place._

 _We do not have those means_ , was the reply to him. _And we try not to bring harm to those not in our way. Kill only the nations and their soldiers if it is necessary._

He kept thinking and waiting to see if the inhabitants of that house under lockdown would make an error. Netherlands had not seen anything yet. He was waiting still for Germany and Russia to arrive, which apparently they would sometime today. He would rather have them use their muscle and tear up the place. They could withstand a few bullet wounds, kill the soldiers, and help him murder Poland and the Baltics.

 _Risky. Try something else first_ , the voice told him.

Netherlands stretched out both his legs. He listened carefully, and if the street went quiet, he could hear Poland's voice occasionally exclaiming something. Something in him was changed, and that voice he heard brought him a flare of anger. Like a cat watching birds in a cage, itching to use its claws to tear apart life, Netherlands yearned to take away the life of the four nations in there even if he did not know why he wanted to.

He lay in the yard all day. Those who owned the property he was on had never come home since he had first started hanging out behind the bush. He guessed that they were on vacation, which helped him because he would not have to run away every time a car pulled into the driveway. When it was past six o'clock, it was getting rapidly cooler. He pulled his hood up over his head, the cloth sliding over his soft hair. He wore no gel because the Baltics had always seen him with it on, so now he was hardly recognizable and the scar on his forehead was covered.

 _Number One and Two have arrived. A beige truck will pass you. They are in this vehicle and it will be parked on the next street over until they are needed._

Netherlands stayed down. Through the branches he saw soon a truck with a Russian license plate go by. He could only see a male driver in the vehicle. He could assume that Germany and Russia were tucked out of sight in the back seats. It went by without stopping then it was gone.

It got chillier. Netherlands knew he was probably colder than he felt so he sat up and put his legs in front of him. He rubbed furiously at them then pocketed his hands.

A red car came slowly down the street at that time. Netherlands looked on in curiosity as it stopped in the front of the yard of the house neighboring Latvia's. He squatted, wondering if the person was meaning to go to the Baltic place but had to park there because the soldiers' vehicles were in the way. Netherlands slunk around the house's backyard then went into the next yard so that he was out of sight of Latvia's house if he would happen to be seen.

He had been correct. It was a pizza delivery boy. He was a young teenager with bone-thin arms, tiny frame, and a young face that made him think this was person was only fifteen although he must have been older to have the driving license he had. Netherlands raced across the street once he saw the teenager glance towards Latvia's house instead of the one his car was parked in front of.

Netherlands rammed into him and sent him flying. The bag with pop cans clacked on the sidewalk and the two pizza boxes flipped over. The teenager yelped and fell into the hedge of the house neighboring Latvia's. Netherlands threw him to the ground and kicked him first in the stomach then head. The scrawny teenager moaned and curled up. Netherlands dug through his pocket when he was too helpless to move, took his wallet, and pocketed it.

He stalked over to the pizza boxes. He opened both and was gladdened to see them covered in meat and vegetable toppings. He pulled back the cheese and got out the bag of hemlock. He sprinkled it into the marinara then covered it over with the cheese. He closed the lids then quickly but silently fled while the teenager was still down.

Netherlands jogged down the street, pocketing the hemlock then pulling out the wallet. He took the cards and cash, dropped the empty wallet on the corner, and cast some coins on the sidewalk up ahead. He checked that the teenager was still unresponsive and that no one was around before he doubled back. Netherlands climbed a tree this time and went high enough that he could overlook everything.

He enjoyed what happened next. The teenager limped to Latvia's house for help. A soldier answered the door, and Netherlands heard the teenager crying about how he was just jumped and had his wallet stolen. He turned his head and watched this soldier race down the street on the false trail he had set. Another soldier came out and comforted him, and called what Netherlands knew to be the police. They walked back with the teenager to the mess and helped pick up the boxes.

They took everything inside. Netherlands grinned from his perch as he watched the solemn-faced soldier pay the teenager extra as consolation. The sun went lower as everything came to an end. Eventually everyone left and the street was quiet and empty again. Netherlands went back down to the bush and listened carefully to the Baltic household.

He hoped they were eating the pizza now. There had been enough hemlock to kill as long as they all had at least two slices each, which was probable when there were two boxes and four cans. For Latvia, he knew that he would surely die quickly with the amount of poison hemlock his tiny body would ingest. One slice was enough. He smirked at this thought.

He guessed that half an hour to an hour after eating the pizza, they would start experiencing the symptoms and he would hear them crying out in panic. Darkness fell and stars dotted the sky when he heard a scream from Poland. Netherlands started to chuckle as satisfaction hit, but then he halted when he heard Poland shout, "Gabriels!"

 _Wait…_

He heard the Baltics start wailing and Lithuania's shout, "He's having a seizure!"

Then he realized it. There were four soldiers in there. The four cans of pop and the pizza had all been for them, not Poland and the Baltics.

 _No!_

 _They will know it was you_ , the voice said. _Attack now, while the guards are down!_

 _Four of them?_ he thought.

 _Number One and Two are incoming._

The beige truck cruised around the corner then stopped. Germany and Russia burst out and bolted down the street, each bearing loaded guns. Netherlands was hesitant at first but then absolute determination overwhelmed him. It was now or never. He ripped around the bush and led the charge to the house with his blood roaring and the stamping of his feet on the pavement loud and exciting.

The sprint was the beginning of the hunt and his breaths puffed out into the cold air. He dashed onto the path up to Latvia's house and immediately an alarm blared. He heard a chorus of hollers and yells, then Lithuania peeled back the curtain and the blood drained from his face when he saw Netherlands pulling out a pistol. He disappeared from sight and Netherlands heard Lithuania screeching, "They're all here!"

Netherlands stepped out of the way. Russia ran without hesitation at full speed for the door and it flew off its hinges as though it was merely getting out of his way out of courtesy. Russia dove into the house and shrieks erupted as gunfire did.

Netherlands stopped at the door and glanced back before he jumped into the house. He peered through the darkness, then spotted Germany struggling against the ground with his leg buried in a hole. Netherlands saw him pull out the leg that was now impaled by multiple wooden stakes. He groaned then left Germany bleeding injured on the ground to fend for himself. The mistake of stepping off the path was not his problem right now. Germany could either limp back to the truck or stay there to shoot any target trying to flee.

Netherlands expected at least one victim, but not even a Baltic was lying in a puddle of their own blood. They had scattered from the room and he heard mayhem in the kitchen and shots firing from more than more gun.

 _They're armed!_

He had thought that only the guards would have weapons. He realized how horribly wrong it had been to think that. Latvia stumbled into sight, saw him, and fired without hesitation. Netherlands dove to the side upon sight of Latvia's revolver. He raised his pistol at the same time and blew a bullet into Latvia's gut.

He squeaked and fell into the couch. Netherlands raced to him as Latvia bled and squirmed in pain. Netherlands was about to shoot his head but there was a scream of, "Latvia!" then Netherlands spun as a bullet entered the same shoulder Norway had shot earlier. Netherlands screamed in agony as his healing wound exploded. Estonia lunged at him and tackled him to the ground with ferocious strength that Netherlands never would have believed a Baltic nation could contain.

He expected none of this. He grew terrified as he realized just how much he had underestimated these targets. Estonia slammed his foot into his arm and ground it into a revealed cut on his wrist. Netherlands yelped and accidentally released his hold on the pistol. Latvia dove off the couch and pulled it away from him as Estonia shot Netherlands in the knee. Fluid and bone burst and Netherlands squealed helplessly on the carpet.

He heard Russia screech from the kitchen. A second later, he stumbled out clutching his bloody face. Lithuania jumped out and shoved him against the wall, then directed his heavy rifle at him and screamed, "Don't move! If you move, I will kill you!"

Netherlands gasped as Poland stepped out with Russia's robotic eye dangling on wires from his blood-drenched fingers.

 _How did this happen?_ his mind screamed in panic. _No, no!_

Russia froze. He was unarmed now and blind. He seemed to be listening, or at least whoever was controlling him was trying to figure out what to do.

"Yes, you hear me," Lithuania gasped, "whoever you are! I will shoot him if he attacks again."

Estonia stepped on Netherlands and lowered his gun down on him. Netherlands was on his stomach but he turned his head sent a glare up at him.

The voice said, _Move in three, two, one…_

The driver in a skull mask dove in with a gun. Estonia gasped and pointed his shotgun at him and fired. Netherlands tripped Estonia at that time and scrambled to his feet. He tore away, leapt over the body, and hurried to the door in complete ignorance of Russia's fate. Netherlands could not help screaming in pain as he pulled his blown leg with him on every step as he desperately tried to get away. He tripped and fell on the path outside and Estonia appeared in the doorway. Germany fired from the dark and Estonia snapped back with a cry.

Netherlands got up and with tears raining from his face, he limped frantically away with Germany. They were on the road trying to get to the truck. From the house they heard yelling and then a belated gunshot before Russia crashed into the doorframe before falling outside.

The voice told him, _We can get another eye. Help him!_

"Go forward!" Netherlands shouted.

Russia blindly dashed along the path, avoiding the traps. When he smacked into a car, Lithuania stepped over Estonia and fired. He tried to aim at his back, but his shaking grip caused him to miss. Russia turned when Netherlands yelled, "This way!" and he tore off towards his voice. Lithuania commanded Poland to help Latvia and Estonia before he ran after the fleeing trio.

Germany turned and fired at Lithuania as he jumped out into the street. Lithuania careened to the side and hopped behind a parked car. He squatted and leaned out to fire back. Germany stopped running and turned to defend them. Netherlands snatched Russia's arm and dragged him into the idling truck as the shots echoed down the street.

Lithuania panicked. He did not want them to escape. Not again, like after every time. Germany looked back to the truck as Netherlands slammed the door as he got into the front and promptly started to drive away. Lithuania breathed heavily and aimed for the tires. Just as he fired, Germany leapt to grab onto the back of the vehicle rolling away. He cut in front of Lithuania's quaking aim and Lithuania let out a shriek when something burst from his head and Germany crumpled.

Netherlands was not heard, but he swore and slammed the pedal. The truck screeched away as Lithuania ran up to Germany.

"No, no, no, no…" Lithuania whimpered. "I didn't-"

Germany was utterly still on the ground. His false eyes shone under the streetlight and the mess of brains and blood glimmered.

Poland's shout echoed down the street.

"Lithuania!"

Lithuania turned around with a face tightened in dread. He faced Poland as he ran to him. He watched Poland's pace slow and his eyes widen.

"Oh my god!" Poland cried. "You like- killed Germany!"

"It was an accident!" Lithuania yelped. "I wasn't trying to- I was just aiming for the t-tires but then he stepped out…"

Poland stared at the body with him and after a while gasped again, "Oh crap! We weren't supposed to kill them!"

Lithuania felt knotted up. He thought about how he was going to have to tell Italy, Japan, Austria, and everyone else about this and he knew how shocked they were going to be. He knew for sure that he was going to destroy Italy with the news. Lithuania swallowed hard, and as tears came to his eyes he felt the need to say again, "It really was just an accident…"

"I believe you," Poland murmured. "You didn't even have the balls to shoot Russia."

"How could I?" Lithuania whispered. "I felt so bad for him. It's not his fault and he doesn't even know what he is doing. I didn't want to kill him." He sniffed. "Germany was innocent too."

For now, they stepped away from the body. Poland told him, "Estonia and Latvia are okay… but, all of the soldiers…"

"We couldn't do anything," Lithuania murmured as blaring lights finally came down the street towards them. He cringed as the glare of the headlights washed over Germany. "The herbs Netherlands has… Denmark found some, remember. It was hemlock and there's no cure for that."

Lithuania could not look at Germany's body any longer. He dropped the gun and put his hands against his face, beginning to weep softly.

* * *

Switzerland and Austria were about to enter Berlin when they received news of the recent events. Their phones blinged and they learned of the attack on the Baltics in full detail.

"Well," Switzerland murmured. "I guess if they meet again this makes it easier knowing that they both went out someway on a road."

Austria hated to admit it, but that statement was true. If both had died and returned, forgiveness and empathy would be easier to achieve between Prussia and Germany.

They looked to the little bird on the dashboard of the car. It stayed there calmly, so they assumed that they were heading the right way if it had not yet made a fuss to tell them otherwise.

A sign announcing their arrival to the city appeared. They drove on, with Austria at the wheel asking, "Where should we stop?"

"Maybe we should see if the bird does anything," Switzerland replied as he regarded it standing and ruffling its feathers. "It's already starting to move."

They went deeper into the city. Eventually it let out a chirp and Austria looked for a place to park. They stepped out onto the street and the bird zipped out of the car. It flew a distance away before looping back to them. In this way they were led through the city until they came up to a building and the bird landed on the step.

"What?" Austria looked up and read the letters stretching over the door. "An orphanage?"

"He must be a child," Switzerland concluded. "So someone might have found him and brought him here."

"Not good," Austria murmured. "That sounds like he has no memories if he ended up here."

They pushed past the doors and entered. Immediately a worker at the front cheerfully exclaimed, "Hello!"

"Excuse me," Austria said as he walked up to the desk with Switzerland. "We're looking for a specific child. We lost him and think that he was taken here."

"What? Really?" she gasped.

"He has red eyes," Switzerland said. "And white everything else."

"Oh!" she exclaimed. "We had a boy here like that just for a week! Eight, wasn't he?"

" _Had_?" Austria interjected.

"He just got adopted though…" she trailed off.

"Who?" Switzerland demanded.

She raised her eyebrows and replied, "I'll find out, hold on!"

They heard her typing and clicking. Seconds later, an address was given.

"Mrs. and Mr. Keller," she added. "I met them. They're lovely."

"We'll go talk to them then," Austria said. "Thank you."

"You're welcome."

They left and the bird fluttered onto Switzerland's shoulder. They walked back to the car with a spring in their step, with Austria exclaiming, "He's back! I knew it!"

"Hold on. It still might not really be him," Switzerland told him although hope flashed in his eyes as well.

The address was put into the GPS. They followed the directions diligently until they pulled up to a neat, white house with a garage. Austria parked in front then they walked up the driveway then the concrete path to the door.

Austria rang the doorbell. They waited. A bird feeder hung from a tree and Prussia's bird left Switzerland to go to it while they stood there idly. Austria rang it again and they kept waiting. When no sounds of movement came, Switzerland said, "I don't think they're home."

Austria walked to the side and put his hands and face against the window. There was a crack between the curtains and he tried to peer through it into the living room.

"You'd think an eight-year-old Prussia would make a mess," Austria commented. "But it's spotless in there."

It was not much, but immediately Switzerland joined in with his suspicion.

"You wouldn't think…" Switzerland spoke up, "that after a week of being at the orphanage, someone from the organization happened upon him?"

"I hope not," Austria muttered.

Switzerland went up to the window. It was separated into three pieces, with two smaller windows that could be opened and one large glass piece over top. Switzerland kicked the lower vertical pane and it produced a cracking sound. He did it two more times, grunting on each hit, until plastic chipped. He pushed on the window and it swung inwards now that the lock was broken.

"Less obvious that we're visiting," Switzerland commented. Austria sighed then followed him through the open window. They closed it behind them then started to wander.

"It doesn't look like they have any kids at all," Austria stated. They walked past rooms, peered in them, and so far found only one undisturbed guestroom and other storage rooms. They strolled into one filled with books and they circled this room.

"It's so clean in here," Switzerland remarked.

"They don't seem like terrorists," Austria said. "Is this the right place?"

"For sure, it is. But… there's no sign of Prussia. If this couple wanted to adopt, they would have gotten toys and things, wouldn't they?"

They looked over the titles of the books. Austria huffed and pulled out a heavy, well-used Bible.

"But this doesn't seem right," Austria said as he showed the book to Switzerland and gestured with his head at the angel statuettes on top of the shelves. "The people who live here wouldn't be interested in genocide, would they?"

"Sometimes people are radicals."

Austria put the book back. "Based on the condition of the house, it doesn't seem that way."

They continued on. They found the bedroom at the end of the hall and they started looking through the drawers of the nightstand. They ignored the money they found and only closed the drawers one after the other after finding nothing. On the second last drawer, they found a smaller-sized Bible nestled over a hairbrush.

When they checked the last drawer, Switzerland's hand froze on the handle. They gawked at what lay in it before Austria reached in and pulled out a skull mask.

"Oh no," he whispered.

Switzerland took out the other mask. "Both of them."

Austria looked back into the drawer. He reached in and pulled out a ripped piece of paper.

"What is that?" Switzerland asked. Austria lowered it so they could both read it.

Someone had written neatly in cursive _Fire and Brimstone_ then under it, _11 p.m. Sundays_.

"This must be the name of the organization," Switzerland murmured.

Austria said, "That is the time they meet, but where is that?"

"Based on the expression and everything we've found in this house, it is religious. At a church probably."

"Which one?"

"People this religious likely choose to live nearby the church they attend. We can try the closest one."

"Tomorrow's Sunday," Austria said. "We could probably buy these masks because it's close enough to Halloween. We could get in."

"I was thinking the same thing." Switzerland nodded. "We need to spy on them, figure out what's going on, where the location of their headquarters is, and what they've done with Prussia."

"Exactly."

"Let's get going then before we get caught."

They put everything back to how it had been before. They hurried to the window, exited the house, then closed it again so that it was harder to know that it was broken. Prussia's bird swooped into the car and they went off to find a store before it closed. They were able to buy the masks then they struggled to find a way to kill time. Before dinner however, they decided to message Denmark to explain what had happened to tell him and Norway that Iceland was alive. They told France and Liechtenstein what they had found, but that was all. Their group and the Nordics would pass on the message of the returns discretely so that it would not be heard by the wrong ears. It seemed that it was already too late and the organization knew about Prussia, but just in case they were wrong, everyone was to carry on cautiously.

The next hours were slow and sleeping with their anxiousness about what would come the next day was so difficult. They then struggled to make the next day pass, visiting tourist attractions until sunset, then they went back to the hotel, put all of their belongings into the car, and checked out.

* * *

There were many cars parked in front of the church at this time of night. They knew they were at the right place. They stayed in the car and watched people slip on their masks then enter the building after briefly saying something to a person leaning beside the door.

"It's a guard," Switzerland uttered. "I think they're giving a password."

"Nothing was on that paper but that name. Let's go with that."

Austria watched Switzerland hide a gun in his coat. Then together, they tugged the masks over their heads. They looked at each other and felt a strange feeling of disconnection. It was suddenly difficult to believe that the person who had been sitting beside them before was still there. They had already changed into black which went with the theme of the others entering the church on this desolate road. Now, they would be hard to distinguish from the crowd.

"Stay close," Switzerland said.

Austria replied, "I will."

The bird left the car and they saw the shadowy form fly under the roof of the church, seeming to disappear through a hole.

 _Better it doesn't get locked in the car_ , Austria thought. _In case something goes wrong…_

They tried to walk with sure confidence towards the guarded entrance. A thick-armed woman wearing denim shorts and a T-shirt despite the cold air glared at them as they came near. She said nothing but seemed to be waiting on them.

"Fire and Brimstone," Austria said.

The guard asked, surprisingly in English, "You a new member?"

"Yes."

"You have an Austrian accent. We haven't had anyone from Austria here before."

"I am Austrian, actually," he said.

"Huh."

She did not move. Switzerland and Austria went past her without any dispute and they caught up to those who had entered before them.

The room they came to was large and decorated with shadows. Most ledges held lines of candles and the altar displayed a few large ones set in magnificent candleholders that threw their foreboding light over the front.

It was entirely silent. No one spoke as the countless candles burned steadily all around them. The carpet was crimson and wavering flames made the shadows dance on the dark walls. They uncomfortably strolled in with the white of their masks becoming stained with the colours of fire and their shadows transforming into strange beings that twisted behind them. Austria and Switzerland wordlessly slipped into the back and tried to appear as unbothered as the others did.

Minutes passed and people stopped filling the stands. The final person to arrive came down the aisle with ominous, slow footsteps that echoed in the quietude and projected purpose to them. Austria and Switzerland watched a tall person in a flowing black cloak sweep around to take a stand before the altar.

Once here, the woman at the front cried, " _Wer war der Tor, wer der Weiser_?"

Austria and Switzerland recognized immediately the verse.

" _Wer der Bettler oder Kaiser_?"

Then the silent forms around the room broke out together into an enthusiastic yell, " _Ob arm, ob reich, im Tode gleich_!"

"I don't like this at all," Switzerland whispered.

"Why are these… catholics I think, quoting Danse Macabre?"

"Why are they wearing skull masks?" Switzerland said lowly. "Because. They are creepy and obsessed with death."

"Unity…" Austria mused.

"In mortality," Switzerland murmured and nodded.

The rest of this sermon was continued in German.

"With faith we carry on the duties that He wishes for us to do." She leaned over the altar. "We are one. We must join hands and eradicate filth that does not belong on this world as we are meant to."

From the same door everyone had entered through, two masked people came in dragging between them a beaten and bruised child. The audience stared at the new-arrivals with emotionless skull faces and did not speak as they watched the child struggle with whatever strength he had left. He was taken to the front for everyone to see and once here, the rough cloth that had served as his blindfold up to this point was torn from his face to initiate fresh fear.

He blinked in pain when the candles burned spots into his retina, but they widened in confusion and terror at the sight of the skull faces that looked back at him. The rosy eyes flashed around the room seeking help but everything that was seen only caused more distress to him.

"Shit," Switzerland hissed to Austria.

Prussia turned his head and saw a monster of black creeping up to him. The woman stopped just behind him. Tears poked out from Prussia's eyes from fear and the pain of having his arms pulled by the two kneeling men. She spread her arms out wide and stood tall, once again announcing in a clear and powerful voice, "We must find a way to end this!"

Everyone had recognized Prussia once he had been put up at the front. The crowd whooped in agreement and Austria and Switzerland reluctantly joined in to not appear suspicious.

"The loss of their physical bodies does nothing," she continued. "We must try holy methods to erase them!"

Austria murmured, "What are we going to do? Attack?"

"I don't know if anyone else is armed," Switzerland said. "If so, it could go very wrong."

More cheers. The woman took a special, capped glass bottle from off the altar then returned to Prussia. She unscrewed it then poured the clear liquid over the child's head. He shook his head and cried more in further confusion. They mistook this for pain. Austria and Switzerland were shocked when she exclaimed, "This demon must be destroyed!"

"Yes!" the crowd screamed.

"We will capture them all and figure out the way!"

"Yes!"

"We are one!"

"Yes!

"They are not one of us!"

Prussia wailed the best he could behind his gag. The way he was behaving was horrifying Switzerland and Austria. They knew that Prussia understood that he was helpless. The child was shaking in fear for it.

No one seemed to care. Prussia's little face went red as he sobbed. The blindfold went back around him and he thrashed vainly.

"Hey-" Austria started.

"I know."

The two men were taking Prussia back down the aisle. Switzerland was ready this time, taking out his gun then hiding it along the side of his leg in the darkness. When they came right beside him, Switzerland jumped to his feet, raised the gun to the air, and fired twice. Everyone in the stands screamed in surprise and dove for cover. The men holding Prussia released him and did the same as everyone else: they cowered. Switzerland leapt out and went to the door just as the guard appeared with a gun drawn. He got her by surprise and threw her to the ground before her eyes could adjust to the darkness. He jumped on her then Austria, carrying Prussia, did the same on his way out.

Austria huffed and puffed as he skittered across the parking lot with the extra weight that struggled. Austria pulled off the blindfold but it did not help calm him. Prussia squirmed even in the car once Austria had thrown him into the back. Switzerland frantically pulled out the car from the parking space as Austria took off Prussia's gag.

A mob was charging out the door led by the recovered guard. Switzerland swore and the engine roared as they accelerated. They had to go by the door to get out and Switzerland's breathing picked up as he saw the guard aiming at him. The gun was beside him. He cringed and reached for it as they got closer.

There was a bang that shattered the window of the glass before he could grab it. Austria and Prussia screamed in surprise but saw that Switzerland was unscathed. The car raced on while in the side-view mirror the guard was seen throwing herself around trying to protect her face from the small, scratching claws of the bird targeting her eyes.

They turned around corners and Switzerland started to laugh and yell in exhilaration. Prussia shook and stared at them until Austria remembered to yank off his mask.

"Prussia!" he gasped. "You're safe now!"

The child blinked the tears out of his eyes, then whined, "Austria?"

"Yes!" Austria exclaimed. "Oh- Switzerland, did you-?"

Switzerland took of his mask with one hand. He said, "He knows who we are."

Austria slid closer to Prussia, asking, "What do you remember? Anything?"

"What am I supposed to remember?"

"Battles, the World Wars… bugging me…"

"Ah…?"

"Prussia."

"Why are you calling me that?" he asked.

Austria froze. "Wait…" he murmured. "Who do you think you are?"

Prussia puffed out his chest. "I am the Teutonic Knights!"

Switzerland said, "He must need to get his memories back as he ages."

"Okay," Austria sighed in relief. "Yes…"

Then to Prussia, he said, "You are called Prussia nowadays. You will remember that soon."

Prussia did not seem so shocked. He seemed to understand that he had forgotten things, for he replied, "I can't wait for that! Everything's crazy around here. What's going on?"

Neither Austria nor Switzerland wanted to explain the circumstances of his death and scare him. Explaining that he had been killed by Germany who had been under the control of technology, two things that Prussia had never heard of before, would not be easy. Austria just said, "Those people are bad. That is Fire and Brimstone and they want to capture all the nations. We'll take you to safety."

Prussia nodded.

"But we need to find Hungary and Kugelmugel- he's a micronation, but you know Hungary."

"Yeah, that Hungary bastard!" Prussia exclaimed. "I know him!"

"Her."

"What?"

Switzerland asked, "How long have you been around?"

"Umm…" Prussia hesitated. "I was St. Maria Order, founded-"

"Have long have you been in this 'crazy' world?" Switzerland tried again.

"A week or two…?" Prussia looked unsure. "I don't know. I've been growing awesomely fast but I don't know how I got to be so small again and why I can't remember everything yet!"

"One month after," Austria said. "He was gone on the last day of July, so he might have returned at the end of August."

"What are you guys talking about?" Prussia asked.

"We'll tell you later."

"I want to know now!"

Austria dug out his phone. Ignoring Prussia, he said to Switzerland, "We have to report those people."

He started to call the police. Prussia stood up in the car and pulled at Austria's cheek, still being demanding.

"What's that you're holding? I saw that before. What is it? Hey! Hey! What is it?"

"A phone. Hold on," Austria sighed. Prussia pulled harder on his face until Austria exclaimed, "Stop!" although it brought warmth to his heart to see Prussia being his usual self.

They were sure they were in the clear now. They were soon out of the city and cruising away on a highway under the cold sky. Austria relaxed into the seat and talked to the police as Prussia pressed his face against the opposite window to look at the stars. Switzerland turned on the radio once Austria was done on the phone. Prussia was amazed by the speaker beside him. He got so excited that he jumped on the backseat and demanded again that Austria give him a name for "this thing right here". Austria exhaled and smiled as he tried and failed to explain the car's audio system.

"You're making no sense!" Prussia proclaimed.

With all danger out of their vicinity, Switzerland and Austria felt free to laugh. His energy had been missed so much. Austria carefully put Prussia down onto the seat and he strapped the seat belt over him to buckle him in. Austria did the same to himself and Prussia asked, "What's this for?"

"It is to hold you in place if we get into an accident with another car. Like, if you are riding on a horse and the horse stops suddenly you would fall off. Same thing, but this stops you from going flying."

"Got it!" Prussia yelled.

Austria laughed and Prussia started to as well in his normal, rambunctious way.

"Good," Austria breathed. "We don't want to see you get hurt, alright? From now on, we're going to keep you safe..."


	14. Chapter 14

Two days after they had received Austria's message, Norway and Denmark got the soonest available seats on an airplane to Iceland. Denmark had squirmed in excitement for the entirety of the flight, exclaiming constantly, "He's back! Oh my god, can you believe it? Ice!" and other related words while grabbing at Norway's clothes.

Norway had smiled and let Denmark shake him every once in a while despite how other passengers glanced their way with looks of confusion on their faces. Even he could not contain his joy and he replied often things such as "I can't wait to see him" and "I've missed him so much".

Denmark held onto Norway's forearm that was on the armrest. He cried, "He's going to be sooo cute! Tiny, tiny Iceland!"

They had heard before departing that Prussia was young again and regaining his memories as he quickly returned to his former age. There was an assumption that Iceland might grow faster than Prussia had, for Prussia was dissolved but was still alive because of his strong connection to East Germany, while Iceland had full sovereignty. Iceland should have just appeared now and it was likely that he would be a young child.

Norway closed his eyes and his smile broadened. He was reminded of the old days of raising Iceland, when his sibling was more affectionate and would gladly pipe out the title of "Big Brother" before he learned to become embarrassed when saying such a thing as he got older.

When they landed, it was frustratingly slow getting out with the slew of passengers taking their time taking down their carry-ons in front of them. Once escaped from the plane, Denmark and Norway hurried to get their luggage but were forced to wait again. They swayed side-to-side in further impatience as they waited for their bags to arrive on the belt.

After they got everything, they hurried to get a rental car and initiate their search.

"Where would he be?" Denmark asked.

"He liked to wander the coasts as a child," Norway said.

"Okay, so assuming he popped up here in the capital…" Denmark then started taking them down towards Reykjavík's Nauthólsvík Geothermal beach.

There were many tourists there and they scanned through them for lone children. Their eyes captured some stumbling around on the sand, but none of them had the right features.

"He would go somewhere quieter," Norway told him, "like where the birds settle on the rocks. That was more like his kind of place."

They decided to follow the coast for a while. They walked away from the people, travelling on the grass and stones while looking for a small figure sitting or traipsing up ahead. They went past a wooded area and continued on, hoping this was the right direction. They wanted to head this way for a bit and were willing to go back and try the other direction even if it meant they would be walking past dinnertime and sunset. Only darkness would force them to stop their search.

Waves lapped at the rocks and a salty breeze refreshed their nostrils. Seabirds called to each other and swept over the water then in front of Denmark and Norway just above the blades of the lush grass. As they came around a bend, a stronger wind blew and Denmark fixed his coat. When his head was bent down, Norway grabbed his upper arm, pointed, and gasped, "Could that be-?"

A small child was sitting on a rock jutting over the water. Denmark and Norway broke out into a run. When closer, they could make out ruffled, white hair. They ran faster. There was a puffin with a little red bow cozied up in his arms.

"Iceland!" Norway shouted.

The child lifted his head. He looked very young up close, like a five-year-old. He recognized them however. Iceland stood up on the rock and tottered over to them on short legs. Mr. Puffin flew out of Iceland's arms before Norway knelt and brought him into a cradling embrace. He held him carefully tight and rocked him back and forth while stroking his hand over the back of his light hair.

Iceland snuggled his head into Norway's chest, chirping back enthusiastically Norway's native name, " _Norge_!"

Denmark swept around then dove down to collect them all in an overjoyed hug. Iceland did not seem to understand what was happening, but he was too young so he had not yet regained his usual bitterness that would have made him command them off him. Norway kissed the top of his head while tears glimmered in his eyes, and Iceland smiled because of it.

Iceland had obviously regained memories of his brother's modern language, likely his own as well, so for now they made Norwegian the one for conversation. Norway murmured to him, "Iceland, we love you very much."

Denmark rubbed Iceland's arm and dipped his head to put his face into Iceland's hair. The softness felt the same, and he still smelled like he was supposed to. Denmark nuzzled him then kissed his temple, and although Iceland did not know the cause for the affection, he giggled.

"Why are you both so old?" Iceland asked with a laugh.

They had been teenagers when Iceland had been this age. Denmark chuckled in response, "You're just younger, but you'll grow up really soon."

"Why am I young? Why has everything changed?"

Norway said, "You will remember quickly."

"Is there a reason you won't tell me now?" Iceland looked at Norway's jacket before holding the fabric in both of his small hands and setting his face into it.

They remembered now how smart Iceland had been at this age, when he was constantly wondering about the world and the meaning of his existence. The question made them uncomfortable, pressed to give an answer.

"I think he can take it." Norway looked to Denmark as he said this.

They both looked to Iceland. Iceland stared back, moving his head from left to right to search their faces.

Norway whispered gently to him, "Don't be afraid when I tell you this."

"What?" Iceland replied.

"You… died, Iceland… But you're back now."

"I died?" Iceland's eyes widened.

Norway nodded and caressed Iceland's back. Denmark put another tender kiss on his cheek so that Iceland would be calmed and close his eyes. Iceland still asked however, "How?"

That, they certainly did not want to explain.

"Don't make us say it, please, Icey," Denmark murmured.

Iceland turned his head, observed Denmark's sorrowful expression, then nodded.

"Let us take you back with us," Norway said. "It isn't safe to be alone. There are people who want to capture and hurt you."

"Did they kill me?"

"Yes."

Iceland looked scared again. They cuddled him when he whined so that tears would not come. Mr. Puffin stepped across the rock up to them and Iceland reached out to put a hand on his back.

"But you are okay now, and we won't let it happen again," Denmark told him.

"How long ago…?"

"A month," Norway replied. "But we didn't know you were going to come back."

Iceland sniffed. Norway and Denmark scrambled to comfort him, but Iceland started crying anyway.

"You buried me, didn't you?" Iceland whimpered. "You missed me… I'm sorry…"

"It's alright now." Norway sniffed too. "We have you back."

They got up. Iceland took one of Denmark's hands and one of Norway's. He bent his head and his tears dripped into the damp grass as they slowly headed back towards the beach. Mr. Puffin settled on Denmark's shoulder, decidedly coming with them and ready to protest against anyone who said he could not stay with Iceland.

"Where are we going then?" Iceland asked. "Where is it safe?"

"We're hiding out in Norway," Denmark said. "Just us."

"Oh."

Norway squeezed his hand slightly. Iceland looked up to him and Norway met his eyes. It was amazing to see Iceland's bright, beautiful eyes again, but in his gaze, Norway knew that Iceland understood too much. He knew that he was not the only one who had been killed.

* * *

On the wall outside the kitchen, Denmark and Norway traced Iceland's height everyday with pencil. It was fun; it made them giddy. Like proud parents, Norway and Denmark congratulated Iceland for the centimetres that he gained. Iceland was happy too, but happier to get his memories back. Whenever historical events popped into his mind, or anything goofy that he remembered Denmark doing, he made sure to tell them. Usually he would run across the room and jump onto the couch between them, where they would listen, smile, and dote on him.

He was still sweet and accepting of love, so at night they all slept together in a king-sized bed with Mr. Puffin nestled on Iceland's pillow, sharing it with him. Iceland could not feel traumatized by the news of his death when he was given so much love to occupy him. He contently slept between their warmth, occasionally pet and cuddled if he nudged one of them awake. A week of being at the house, and Iceland was Sealand's age. He was still small, so when he accidentally elbowed Norway, Norway wrapped his arm around his brother then curled around him, and in this position they stayed for the rest of the night.

In the morning Iceland was sitting on the floor in front of the television, watching the newscast and trying to understand modern things that he had forgotten about. Denmark and Norway ate breakfast while watching over him and at this time they received news from Austria.

"Kugelmugel! Nice!" Denmark exclaimed upon reading that Austria and Switzerland had found him on the property of the strange, ball-shaped building behind the barbed wire fence that enclosed it. A picture was sent, with the tiny micronation looking up at the camera with a preteen Prussia standing a metre behind him looking off to the side.

They had already given out a picture of Iceland when they had found him for the other nations to see. The pursuit for the deceased ones was beginning, with nations going out once the month anniversary of the death came around. Hungary, they knew, would be back so Austria and Switzerland would have to hurry to find her before Fire and Brimstone did.

"Sweden will be back in a little more than a week at least," Norway said. "We saw him last at your house, and Netherlands might have killed him that night because we fixed him."

"I can't believe Netherlands killed him!" Denmark growled. "When I see him again, let me put a bullet in him this time!"

"But we'd have to wait for him to remember the location of the organization," Norway pointed out. "We don't have the time. We have to catch him and fix him."

"We can do all that, then kill him."

"There you go."

Iceland listened to the conversation, and he felt strange inside. He knew now about the technology controlling the remaining _infected_ , Russia and Netherlands, so he asked, "If you fix Netherlands, then he isn't crazy anymore. Why would you kill him, then?"

Denmark and Norway paused.

"You… don't know what he did," Norway said lowly. "You weren't there but he deceived so many and killed them. His family and our family… His methods were so intelligent. He is conscious."

Iceland had still not recalled his own death. He had no attachment yet to the attacks and crisis so his mind was still open unlike those by him who he knew were greatly affected.

Norway and Denmark had seen much, he understood this. Denmark had mentioned the deaths of Sweden and Finland, and Iceland knew that Finland was poisoned and that Sweden was just gone. Denmark had once said that he did not want to see the blood of his family spill again, and because Finland had been poisoned and Norway was never mentioned being injured, Iceland assumed that his death must have been gory. They had seen him been opened up, they had attended two funerals, lost Sweden, survived attacks on their lives, and put their trust in someone who in the end had tried to kill Denmark.

So Iceland knew they wanted someone to blame, and Netherlands had gotten so close to them that it was easier to hate him than some faceless members of a hidden organization. Denmark had felt Netherlands' touch as he tried to kill him. Norway had seen Netherlands trying to kill the one he wanted to protect. They despised the body that betrayed them because they could not see what was inside him. Iceland could comprehend this, but they could not.

He protested, "It isn't his fault, they're making him this way!"

Denmark said, "It is also him. He was as he always is. That was his personality, his way of speaking- Netherlands knew what he what he was doing but he didn't fight it."

"But what if he just couldn't? You don't know how hard it is," Iceland continued, his voice high-pitched but strong with confidence. "You don't think Netherlands is a murderer just as he is, do you?"

"You must not remember, but he is not the most likable guy," Norway muttered. "What with his black market drug usage-"

"He isn't a murderer. It is not the same."

Denmark sighed. He did not look convinced, neither did Norway, but Denmark said, "We don't need to kill him, I guess."

"Don't," Iceland stressed. "If that had been Sweden instead who had done those things, you wouldn't have wanted to take revenge!"

They were quiet now. Iceland did not know it, but now they were remembering how Sweden drove an ax into Iceland's chest but how happy they had been to drag him into the house and take the technology out from him. They caught onto the logic in his words now. A silence settled for a while, and Iceland turned back to the news that was playing.

In a few minutes, Iceland heard a sound that he recognized. He turned around and saw Denmark with the device he was told was a _phone_ although he still did not know much about it.

"You took a picture?" Iceland wanted to state it, but he was unsure if Denmark had done the same thing he had done days ago.

"You're getting bigger," Denmark smiled across the room at him. He gave the phone to Norway so he could look at it what he had taken. Once Norway had it, Denmark slid off from his chair and walked over to Iceland. Iceland looked up from the floor at the healing scar that curved around Denmark's throat like a claw, until Denmark plopped down beside him and hugged him.

The comfort was nice. Denmark assured him with it that he had listened, and that he was not heartless.

"You're too cute to argue with!" Denmark laughed. "I better listen to you so we don't have to."

Iceland put his thin arms around Denmark's larger frame. Norway left the table and came over to them. He knelt down and showed Iceland the photo. Iceland reached out and took the phone from him, looking over it with round, curious eyes.

"You're small," Norway commented as they all looked over it together, "but you're smart, Iceland."

Iceland blushed. Denmark released him and Norway took his turn hugging him. Norway put his cheek against his and rubbed his side for a few seconds before he whispered, "Do you want to know how to use a phone?"

"Yeah," Iceland breathed.

Norway let him go and sat cross-legged beside him. He showed him the basics, and Mr. Puffin flew through the house after sleeping in late and came across them all sitting together. He landed awkwardly on the couch and waddled up to the edge to look over what they were doing.

"This is a phone too." Norway took off his hair clip and put it into his grasp. "I used to wear a regular clip, but then I got this. Light, convenient, and always ready for emergencies as long as it's charged."

A pang came as Norway remembered the day Iceland had died, when Iceland ran back for a cell phone, forgetting about Norway's clip on the day that Sweden had been turned. The events after all led up to Iceland going out the door first. Norway was aware suddenly that every second of the past resulted in the present time, but he felt lucky.

He leaned into him, caught the scent that Denmark had appreciated before, and took the hair clip back. Norway put it back in its usual spot on his head and Iceland watched him do it.

"Is it charged?" Iceland asked, although he looked confused as he said the last word.

Norway replied, "I charge it often- that means it has power to work."

Denmark had his phone back for a bit now, and he had sent the photo of Iceland to others already. He laughed as he got responses. He showed Iceland the comments that were about how adorable they thought he was. Iceland blushed again, out of the phase when he would giggle at such words and starting to revert back to his old self, but still displaying his like for hugs.

It would not stay like that for much longer. Denmark and Norway enjoyed the last days they would get with him like this, still looking forward to his increasing height but disheartened when Iceland slowly grew solitary. The day they introduced him to the phone fully, they took him out to play the whole day away, and they continued to do this until the night came where Iceland wanted to sleep alone because he insisted that he wanted more room for himself.

While they missed holding the one they had lost close, Iceland being how they remembered him was familiar and delightful. He had gotten older, so close now to his previous age which was when compared to regular people, about sixteen or seventeen. The puffin had followed him into the spare bedroom, but Denmark and Norway returned to the one with the king-sized bed.

Norway set the glass of water he had carried in with him on the nightstand along with his hair clip. Denmark left the door open and flicked off the light, then crawled into the bed as Norway did.

"I can't wait," Denmark murmured, not wanting to speak too loudly and annoy Iceland. "Puny Sweden, but with a fierce glare…"

It had been decided already that they would travel to Sweden the next day to start searching for him. Denmark heard Norway laugh softly in the darkness; a sound so hard to stoke from him. Norway was happy. Denmark felt warm inside. Everyone that they cared about was coming back and they were not the last ones anymore.

"When we were young," Norway whispered as he shifted closer, "we didn't think about how young we looked. I hardly remember your face as a child because we grew up slowly, changing day by day. Iceland… we've raised him before, but Sweden is going to be a surprise."

Denmark sighed in a way that Norway could hear his smile.

"He will be cute, for sure he will be," Denmark purred. "I won't be able to take his stare seriously until he gets older!"

Norway wiggled into him. He put an arm over him and set his head on his chest. Denmark's smile broadened and he lay his arm along Norway's back.

"We're okay," Norway sighed. "We'll get them all back, then we'll… finally end this."

Denmark's heartbeat was relaxing to listen to.

"Yeah," Denmark whispered. "We'll stop them then we can walk free together- our whole family. It'll be nice. I want this so bad and I have wanted it in my dreams too, before I knew that death was not permanent for people like us."

"Mmm," Norway exhaled. He was excited as well, but once having had escaped the cool air to be cozy under the blankets, he was growing sleepy. Denmark's heartbeat was especially sedative. Denmark yawned after Norway did, then after snapping his mouth closed, he started slowly stroking Norway's back. Norway's breathing slowed and soon he had fallen asleep snuggled up with him, and once Denmark knew this, his hand stilled and he did the same.

* * *

They assumed Stockholm would be the location where Sweden would appear. The three Nordics travelled there and spent the day touring the city searching for a lone child wandering around in confusion. Denmark had his hair down to try and be less recognizable, fearing that supporters of Fire and Brimstone would be this far north in Europe. They did not ask for help, also worried that they might ask the wrong person and be found out.

After all, if the organization had found out about Prussia, then they would search for the other returning nations and try to capture them while they were still ignorant about the current situation. Hungary had been found fortunately by Switzerland and Austria, and Belgium by Spain and Portugal, who had decided to help and had guessed the date of her death was the same day she had said online that she was visiting Netherlands. Tomorrow Luxembourg was due to return, so that group was going in that direction. Norway and Denmark had said nothing online about going to Sweden, but it was assumed that they would take the responsibility of locating him.

Denmark said, "If a child was alone walking around, you'd think a Swede would ask, 'Where are your parents?' before getting the police once learning that the child was alone. Maybe the police have him, then?"

"Already?" Norway answered.

They dropped by the nearest police station, but they were unsure of the officers because they knew that there had been cases of terrorists among the military before. They asked if they had found a missing child, but when the response was no, the staff wondered if they had lost a child. They lied, claiming to want to know the status of a child who had been missing for a longer time. When they tried to ask the name of the old, missing child, Denmark, Norway, and Iceland feigned sorrow and they left the building.

"This is hard," Denmark sighed as they continued on their walk. "There are too many streets. Mr. Puffin's an advantage, but he flew off before we planned a meeting place and time."

"He can find us, don't worry," Iceland replied. "Whether I want him to or not, he always finds me."

They walked past countless shops and cafés, but finding Sweden was much more difficult than it had been finding Iceland.

"He might not have appeared yet," Iceland suggested. "He might have died a little later."

"Maybe," Norway agreed. "We might have to stay here for a few days, searching."

They kept walking for a few more hours. They stopped once in this time to sit by a fountain, resting their legs, then they finally decided to settle at a restaurant for dinner.

Denmark was slightly worried. He told them at the table, "I just hope no one got to him before we did."

Denmark paid for everyone's expensive fish meals, then they went back out. The sun was setting by now, and when Norway mentioned that they should start looking for a hotel, Denmark had said, "But if Netherlands killed him after they attacked us, that was at night. Sweden might appear later tonight, right?"

Iceland said, "I don't think it would be a month exactly, that would be weird. Like, I get that maybe a land needs time to realize we're missing, reset, then we're back, but I don't think the time period is so strict."

"I think he's already back," Norway imputed. "It feels that way."

Denmark nodded. He could not explain the feeling inside him, but he felt as though Sweden was nearly in their grasp. His excitement had peaked since they had gotten here, never tiring although they had found no sign of him yet.

They headed on as the colours in the sky intensified. Minutes after their conversation however, Iceland stepped between Norway and Denmark and uttered hurriedly, "I think we're being followed."

They went rigid.

"Who?" Norway asked in a whisper.

"The guy down the street in the green sweater. I've been checking our backs and I know he took the same three turns that we last took ."

"Should we confront him?" Denmark asked.

"I don't know." Iceland's voice grew more fearful. "I saw him on his phone earlier."

"Oh shit," Denmark hissed. "That could be calling for back-up! Anyone in this crowd could be one of them. We gotta go!"

They broke out into a run. They tossed their heads over their shoulders and saw that four people had snapped from a nonchalant stroll into a full-out chase after them. Denmark hollered and they shot around the corner, crashing into people and causing them to scream, and dashing across the street dodging cars. They saw their pursuers having difficulty predicting them, so they raced on, gasping and throwing themselves around obstacles.

After minutes of running, they climbed over a fence to get into the back parking lot of a building. They sat on the gravel behind the dumpster on the wall, breathing heavily and swallowing the stench of rotting food.

"We lost them," Denmark panted.

"They knew who we were," Iceland said. "How can we go around the city now? We might get attacked."

Norway replied, "We need disguises and we need to find Sweden as quickly as possible then get out of here."

"Let's stay here for a few more minutes," Denmark told them. "To make sure they're gone."

They did this. Once their breathing returned to normal, they crept out into the open and headed to the unfenced side of the parking lot. They snuck past parked cars then stepped tentatively back out onto the street. The looked for the clothes they had glimpsed on the people chasing them, but they could not see them now.

"Where's the nearest IKEA?" Iceland asked aloud. "I bet you he went there and became entranced."

"Should have headed there first." Denmark nodded. "But I just didn't think he'd know what IKEA was, but if he happened upon it, he wouldn't want to leave. I know where it is, but it's far from here. We have to walk all the way back to the car, and it'll be dark by then."

"Then should we find a hotel and sleep?" Norway asked. "Will the terrorists look for him when it's dark? Wouldn't Sweden find a place to sleep too? He wouldn't walk around in the dark of a world that would be strange and new to him."

"What would Sweden do?" Iceland posed the question.

"He would adapt, I guess." Denmark shrugged. "He wouldn't be scared. He would get food somehow, be curious…"

They jumped when Mr. Puffin dropped from the sky and landed in front of them on the sidewalk.

"Oh wow, he did find you!" Denmark gasped.

Iceland started, "Did you find-"

Mr. Puffin burst out into his macho voice, "I did for sure, because feet ain't gonna help you find anything fast! Follow me, he's close by!"

The bird flew out in front of them, slowly and low.

"I haven't heard him talk in so long," Denmark tugged at his own ear. "Just that voice that cute bird has surprises me every time!"

"I heard that!" was the deep yell thrown back at him.

"Yeah…" Iceland sighed. "I don't know why he talks, he just always has and…"

They hurried after him, looking around themselves nervously and expecting people to suddenly chase them. Mr. Puffin took them to a café as the sky darkened, telling them that he had seen a boy that had a glare like Sweden's going inside.

Mr. Puffin perched on Iceland's shoulder as they entered. There was no one else inside the café that seemed like it was about to close. A worker was cleaning the glass of the display but in the corner at a table, a tiny, blond child nibbled at the cinnamon bun that had been given to him for free.

"Oh. My. God!" Denmark squealed. "He's so precious!"

Sweden looked up and cocked his head. His face was blank and his eyes were sharp as he observed them. Denmark led the gang over to him and Sweden blinked as he was hugged while still sitting.

" _Danmark_?" he mumbled.

The voice was more high-pitched than they were used to. Denmark laughed and nuzzled him.

"He's yours?" the worker asked.

"Yeah!" Denmark cried. "We've been looking all over for him!"

"Oh good," she said. "I was going to call someone soon but… Wait, is that a puffin?"

No one answered her.

"Sverige," Denmark whispered. Sweden looked over to him. "Come on. We have to go."

Sweden was very young, about four. He was confused by the English being spoken, so Denmark tested out his Swedish which was heavy with his accent.

" _Kom igen, Sverige. Vi måste gå nu_."

"Where?" Sweden spoke and understood his modern language, apparently having already soaked up this ability like Iceland and Prussia had.

Denmark said, "Somewhere safe. Do you trust us?"

"Mm."

Sweden finished the cinnamon bun and wiped his fingers with a napkin. Denmark quickly scooped him up afterwards, amazed by his light weight. Sweden held onto him and put his head over his shoulder. He peeked down at Iceland, Mr. Puffin, and Norway then back at the employee. He chirped sweetly to her, " _Hej hej_!"

"He's so cute!" Denmark cried. "How does this happen? _When_ did this happen?"

Denmark opened the door and yelped when he saw that two dozen people had clustered by the entrance. He scrambled backwards into Norway, accidentally bowling him over as he tried to get back inside as fast as possible. A tranquilizer gun shot out a dart that sunk into the door Denmark had slammed shut with his foot. Sweden squeaked in surprise from the noise and stared at Denmark. He tilted his head up as Denmark set him down to race to lock the door. Norway moved forward to help him, but then a roaring crowd smashed against the door together and blew Denmark backwards.

Denmark crashed into a table then fell and clacked his head off the tile floor. He groaned and hurried to crawl back to Sweden. Norway was there first but as he touched Sweden, a dart was fired into his chest. He gasped and tore it out, then he grabbed Sweden and dragged him away. Promptly the crowd dove upon him, mercilessly shoving him and Sweden to the floor and pounding them with kicks and punches.

Iceland yelled in rage and lunged at an individual attacking them. He struck his crotch then face before throwing him away and grabbing another. Across the room Denmark screamed as a few jumped on him and he heard his ribs crack under their weight. Iceland's panic increased, but he saw Mr. Puffin ripping at the face of someone who had been stomping Sweden. As white feathers were stained red, Iceland savagely fought against the increasing numbers against him.

The lone worker ran out with a metal tray, screaming for the fight to end. When no one responded, she smashed the tray against the head of one of Denmark's assailants. After this, they turned on her as well. She caught another one, but she could not fight five and she soon got beaten unconscious. Denmark was able to lift himself up in the time his attackers were distracted, and he snatched a chair to whip at the crowd. Denmark hollered swears and threw chair after chair at them until limp bodies sprawled over each other.

He made it closer to Norway and Sweden, though Norway was now affected by the tranquilizer and Sweden was hurt and still. Iceland and Denmark pounded the remaining attackers with tables and chairs with the help of Mr. Puffin's distractions until everyone was quiet and it was just them left breathing heavily.

They walked over and pulled Norway and Sweden from the heap of injured people.

"Come on," Denmark rushed Iceland. "Let's get out of here!"

Denmark took Norway's floppy body and Iceland took Sweden. They raced to the door as a few bodies on the floor stirred. On the way out, the one with the tranquilizer raised his gun and aimed it at Denmark's back. Denmark cried out when it struck him and he stumbled, nearly dropping Norway.

"No!" Iceland shrieked after he heard Denmark's yell and saw the dart poking out from his back.

"Go, go!" Denmark gasped. "Before it affects me. We need to find help… Call…"

Denmark kept running with him, but Norway's weight and his drowsiness was causing him to slow down. Iceland looked behind them, saw no one leaving the café, then pushed him to the left into an alley. He put Denmark against the wall, letting him slide down behind the garbage bags piled up beside them. Norway sunk into his lap and Denmark's grip loosened as his eyes slid closed.

Iceland put Sweden down beside them.

"Be quiet and stay here," he told him in his best Swedish.

Sweden stood quivering, but he nodded.

Mr. Puffin dropped down onto a bag and watched him in terrified confusion as Iceland pulled off Norway's hair clip and clipped it to his own hair.

"What are you doing?" he squawked. "Call for help!"

Iceland knocked the garbage bags over the trio so that they were covered.

"No," Iceland uttered. "This has to end. I have to do this."

He made sure they could breathe and between the bags, he could see Sweden's bright eyes peeking up at him. He covered them from sight then he jumped out into the street. A few paces from the alley, then a few people filtered out from the café. Iceland looked back at them, showing them a face of fear that tempted them to chase him in the direction away from the alley.

Mr. Puffin zipped to his side, gazing at him with genuine worry.

"They'll kill you," Mr. Puffin said in Icelandic so that the likelihood that he would be understood was lower. "Don't let them take you!"

"We need the location of headquarters. This is the only way."

Iceland inhaled sharply when a dart captured him in the back. He kept running until his legs gave out and he smacked against the pavement. Mr. Puffin cried out and flew around him in circles, not sure what to do. Bystanders were shocked, frozen in confusion as they saw the teen fall and a gang of bruised people rush to collect his body. No one moved in to help. Mr. Puffin soared away, swearing helplessly because he knew that he was not supposed to interfere although he wanted to desperately.

He landed on top of a building and felt crushed as he watched a car pull up to have Iceland quickly stuffed into the trunk. By now people became shocked, and they hurried to the car, yelling. The members of Fire and Brimstone leaped into the vehicle that roared forward, completed a speedy, dangerous U-turn, then zoomed away back the way it had come.

The car abruptly skidded to a stop as Sweden was seen trotting down the sidewalk. Upon sight of the people hopping out of the car, he turned around and sprinted. His little legs did not get him far before he was tackled and taken into the car, squirming. Mr. Puffin, who had been able to keep up with the car so far, sighed to himself, "Why couldn't ya listen, kid?"

In the vehicle, Sweden had a dart put into him to keep him from resisting. Then, the car hurried away so it would not get caught and two pieces of cargo could be delivered at least. Those in the café dragged themselves out and scattered to avoid capture, and some went down the alley, although no one found Denmark and Norway hidden by the many bags of garbage.

Mr. Puffin flew back when he lost the car and he waited for Denmark and Norway to stir. When they did, it was night and barely any light was shed into the alley. Mr. Puffin heard bags fall over and groggy mumbles from both of them. He saw their figures as they stood up and stepped over the scattered bags.

"Oi!" he cried.

"Mr. Puffin?" Denmark's speech was slurred. "Is that you?"

"Up now! They took Iceland and Sweden!"

That seemed to help pull them from their haze.

"What!" Norway exclaimed. "No- how?"

"Iceland was actin' like a tough guy and he let himself get captured."

"No!" Denmark gasped. "Ice! Why did he-"

"He took that hair clip," Mr. Puffin said.

Norway felt his hair and discovered that it was indeed gone. Norway gasped and grabbed Denmark's arm.

"It is gone!"

Denmark caught on to the importance of this action. He exclaimed, "No way!"

"My smart little brother," Norway laughed. "No one would know that is a cell phone, so they wouldn't take it from him! But now he has a tracking device on him!"


	15. Chapter 15

**There will be an epilogue after this.**

* * *

It had been a journey of tranquilizers and drowsy awakenings, but when he finally woke up completely, Iceland found himself in a cell. He had been unceremoniously dumped on the floor and he now dragged himself up to his knees and forearms. His body felt stiff and numb from lying sprawled on the cold stone for such a long time. When he stood up, everything cracked and ached.

Iceland checked around himself. Sweden was on his side with his limbs stretched out, practically unmoving. His side rose and fell but he was still unconscious. Iceland slowly trod over to him still feeling woozy and feeling as though he was going to puke. He knelt down beside Sweden and slowly lifted him into his arms. He was so light even when limp so Iceland had no trouble carrying him to the cheap bunk bed on the side of the wall. The bed reminded him so much of stereotypical, American jails, but here was warmth so he put Sweden down on the lower mattress then he crawled in around him.

Iceland wanted to be holding him when he woke up. Sweden hardly knew about what had been happening in the world, and he would certainly be confused and likely scared to wake up bruised and behind bars in such a cold room like this. He lay the single blanket that had been at the foot of the bed over them both and he drew Sweden in closer. His face was against his chest so that he would not see the bars at first and could get assuring comfort before he would eventually lay his eyes upon them.

When Sweden did wake up, he was as confused as predicted. The downy tuft of blonde hair tilted back and Iceland saw Sweden's face near his and blatantly trying to figure out who he was.

"You don't know me, do you?" Iceland murmured to him in Swedish.

Sweden tried to shake his head, which did not work well when lying on his side, but Iceland got the idea.

"But you know I am like you."

A little nod.

"My name is Iceland. You will remember later, but I am Norway's brother."

Sweden's eyes widened a bit. Iceland could tell that he was surprised, although it was often difficult even for him to read Sweden's expressions and mood. He knew that he was not feared however, that Sweden trusted him because of how he had identified himself. Norway was a familiar name.

Sweden looked up then started to roll over. Iceland held him loosely so he could do this and examine the small cell they were in. Sweden saw the stone floor and walls, the thick, metal bars, and whatever lights going down the hall that were on that he could see from this angle.

"Where are we?" Sweden murmured.

"I don't know," Iceland replied, "but this should be the headquarters of the people who took us… hopefully."

"Why did they take us?"

"They think we're demons or something."

Iceland's eyes then stretched wide and he reached up to his head. He relaxed. The clip was still clamped on a lock of hair. Iceland dimly remembered the car stopping and hands searching his pockets before he had been tranquilized again. They had searched him before going too far, but they had completely passed over the hair clip.

He removed it and brought it close to his face to scan it. He made sure that no one was around then he moved his hand behind Sweden and under the blanket so that if there were cameras in the room, the clip should not be seen. Iceland just hoped that the cameras could not pick up audio in case the volume on the tiny phone was on and it made any noise.

He tried to keep his face blank as he attempted to figure out just how the phone worked. He pried at a crack carefully, trying not to break the phone if he was doing the wrong thing. It opened up and Iceland was amazed at the time that appeared on a puny screen. It showed the current time in Norway, which was the current time in nearly all West European countries. It was now about 12:30. He assumed that this was the time where he was as well.

Iceland thought, _The drive must have been long, including stops. We must be out of the Nordics countries. Am I in Germany? It would make sense because that was where it all started. And if we have travelled so far without being stopped, we must be at the headquarters. No one interrupted them even with the tracking device on me. We might be rescued very soon then._

Iceland closed it and clipped it back on his ruffled hair. Sweden rolled back over and watched him do it.

"Will someone come to get us?" Sweden asked.

"Yeah," Iceland whispered. "Soon."

Iceland felt surprisingly sure and he knew his confident tone had been picked up by the child. Although, soon could have meant an hour, several hours, or a day. Iceland wondered then what they could do to occupy themselves for that time.

"We have to wait a bit though," Iceland told him. "Are you tired?"

Sweden nodded and made an approving grunt sound in his throat.

"Okay."

Sweden promptly wiggled into him. Iceland smiled softly and fixed the blanket around them. He was feeling quite tired too after being tranquilized so many times. Sooner than he thought it would have happened, he fell asleep with Sweden flopped over his chest with his tiny arms around him.

Iceland instantly found himself thrown into a dream that was so vivid and vague at the same time that he was disturbed. Everything seemed so fast and too out of his control. He wanted some control, but he could not change anything that happened and so fear entered his heart.

It started in a bathroom. Denmark, Finland, and Norway were there with him and they were all looking at a sink together. Iceland was confused at first, wondering what the importance was of the sink. After all, there was nothing in it. Then it struck him suddenly. There was water still there and that meant that Sweden had been in the bathroom.

He was missing. He remembered that now. They had been having a meeting and had taken a break, then Sweden had been not returned so they were looking for him.

" _He is around somewhere_ ," Norway had said.

Then Iceland saw the gaping hole where a window had once been. Just after, he ran off, desperately trying to get to his phone and feeling such an adrenaline rush because it seemed that there just was not enough time. Norway had followed him, and Iceland remembered Norway's endearing sigh, " _You forgot, didn't you?_ " after he was reminded of the hair clip.

 _The hair clip!_ It brought the past and present together. Iceland remembered the details now more and more clearly as the memory progressed.

He saw Sweden outside. He listened to the words that Sweden was crying with the others and he remembered running after hearing glass shatter. Iceland saw the hall go by as he raced down it. He reached for the door handle, opened it, and then…

Hands grabbed him. Iceland's heart had jolted and it did again now as he slept. Sweden. He saw his face as an adult, how cold it had been and how strangely sharp the glare was. Silver had gleamed and Iceland heard everyone else screaming for him. There had been a brief realization that they knew he was doomed and that scared him more. Iceland recalled the pain of being hit in the chest twice with the ax, and then an extended period of suffering on the ground where he could hear yelling and feel Norway trying to help him.

It had ended so suddenly. He had forgotten the final moments of his life yet it was odd that it had been like he had blinked and was back home. Yet now everything was back, and Iceland remembered the last thing before he had died: Norway screeching as though he was being skinned alive because he could not save him.

Iceland woke abruptly sobbing uncontrollably. He sat up, holding himself tightly and struggling to breathe as tears poured from his eyes. He felt something glue itself to his side and he looked down to see what it was. Iceland gasped when he saw Sweden, who was startled by the sharp sound. He let go, unsure, but then Iceland's sobbing calmed and he wiped his eyes before putting his arms around Sweden.

Sweden scrunched up, but then Iceland whispered, "No, no… It's okay." He drew Sweden closer and the small arms went around him again while a face nuzzled into his chest. Iceland stroked Sweden's hair comfortingly, feeling himself calm down as well. This was the real Sweden; he knew this. The monster that had killed him was not Sweden because Sweden would never want to harm him. With this single piece of understanding, he could forgive him although he knew that there was nothing to really forgive in the first place.

Iceland burned with hatred for the organization who had brought such suffering upon them. He looked up as he heard footfalls approaching from down the hall. Eventually a guard passed by, sending them a wordless glare, then continuing on. Sweden did not look at the man, not wanting to retreat from his cozy position, but Iceland's gaze that he had returned to the guard had been more ferocious and fiery than his had been. It had been as hot and dangerous as magma bubbling in a volcano on his homeland; he felt the savage heat overwhelm him as he desired to snatch revenge.

Helpless however, Iceland ran his hands over Sweden's back and waited for Denmark and Norway to arrive and save them.

* * *

Denmark and Norway sat side-by-side in the back of the armored vehicle. Their hearts pounded and their fingers shifted constantly on the assault rifles that had been given to them. They were in the middle of the line of vehicles approaching the building from this direction, while others were incoming from other locations. They listened to the Dutch being barked and uttered on the radio; a multitude of voices setting up and organizing the full-scale attack on what was known to be the headquarters of a highly successful terrorist organization.

They were now soldiers apart of the mission, disguised and willing to follow orders. They had arrived in time for the planned attack by taking the train, and now Norway and Denmark wore uniforms with the Dutch tricolour flag badge bold on their left arms. They had bullet-proof vests strapped around them, other utilities, and hats to match the others that also served in hiding a lot of their hair. Denmark's was heavily gelled back and the hat was snug on his head so that even Norway had a hard time recognizing him.

They knew they were getting closer. They passed more police cars that had helped block off the roads to ease their journey, knowing that by now surely their enemy knew they were coming.

 _Will they run?_ Norway thought. _Will they fight?_

He had the sinking feeling that there was going to be a fight, and a great one at that. If the organization possessed powerful technology, they would not abandon it to let it be examined by them. What was likely was that they would buy time and flee with everything. Then, if they escaped, another headquarters might be set up and the insanity would have an encore.

 _They'll know Iceland brought us to them_ , he realized. _If they can't find out how… what will they do? What if they punish him?_

His fingers felt so cold. The armor on him felt too heavy. As his anxiety heightened, he could not help but wonder, like Denmark was, if he was ready for battle drawing near. He stared forward with him, and when they saw a tall building approaching that appeared like an ordinary business corporation, they knew in their hearts that this was where they were meant to go.

The streets were empty and dead. Where the road split, they could see military vehicles barricading the ends of each street. The entire building was surrounded and it seemed abandoned because not a single sound came from it and no lights were on. The afternoon sunlight glared on the windows where no movement could be detected behind the glass.

The dark feeling increased in both of their guts. Every instinct screamed at them to be cautious because something was definitely afoot. They had been prescient of the attack but had not had the time to escape. Defenses were inside and they were about to walk into all of them so now every step would be unpredictable.

The vehicle came to a stop. Norway and Denmark swallowed their fear as they stepped out with the others and blended into the crowd of soldiers. Determination began to rise within as they came closer and closer to the headquarters. This was the end. This battle was for Sweden, Iceland, and for everyone whom had been harmed by this entire ordeal. The time for justice and revenge was now, to be delivered by the mighty power of the weapons in their hands. Denmark and Norway stuck together in the midst of the marching soldiers, afraid to lose the other and not be able to watch out for him. Their arms brushed constantly with their strides that brought them closer to the front door.

There were yells and then the first shots were fired, from their side through the wood to catch whomever might have been standing on the other side. They charged. Denmark and Norway were pressured into a sprint from the mass of people shoving into them from behind and they bolted towards the explosion that erupted after the front door was forcefully opened. A grenade had gone off then fire and screams overtook the front line, yet they did not stop.

Denmark and Norway surged through the fire and leapt into a room of flying bullets. A line of people greeted them with their own rifles and they roared as they pelted down those entering. Denmark and Norway ducked and streams of bullets from their rifles helped knock these people down. Soon after more came to replace them and from their side, grenades were tossed so that the terrorists screeched just as the soldiers had when they went off just in front of them.

They ran down the hall and doors were thrown open. Norway shoved Denmark flat against the wall with him as a door was pulled back and the growling mug of an unshaven man appeared behind a gun. Dutch soldiers fired simultaneously at him and blew the face into chunks before the man had time to readjust the aim he had on the Nordics. Again they ran, dodging and remorselessly nailing people that popped out because the inferno of hatred consuming them and the lack of time allowed no hesitation.

Many soldiers were taking different halls but Norway and Denmark still wanted to be the first ones to Iceland and Sweden. Some soldiers were sidetracked anyway, diving into rooms and trying to find the technological headquarters where information might be stored and where they could shut down the remaining models Two and Five. Since Russia and Netherlands had not been seen trying to capture the reappearing nations, Denmark and Norway feared that they were lurking these halls somewhere, lying in wait for them.

Victory seemed guaranteed to them with only a few casualties here and there, but after a minute into the battle, once the soldiers were deep enough into the building- everything changed. Denmark dropped down automatically when the soldier in front of him whirled around. A deafening explosion of shots came from above his head and he rolled away before the gun lowered down onto him. The other soldiers who had not dropped with flowers of crimson spreading across their chests hollered and returned fire. Denmark scrambled to his feet and started to shoot at other fellow soldiers who had started setting their guns upon them. Before he got far however, Norway grabbed him and dragged him until he ran away alongside him.

"But, Norway!" he protested.

"Leave them- we're running out of time!"

Norway knew this. The infighting was time-consuming and a clear distraction. They needed to get to Iceland and Sweden before Fire and Brimstone managed a way to escape with them or hurt them if all else failed. Norway and Denmark raced down the hall but found themselves unchallenged. It seemed that there were not so many people here in the building, and their strongest defense was only the soldiers hidden in the army who were truly affiliated with them.

They came to a stairwell.

"Down!" Norway gasped. "It's always down!"

They ran down the stairs alone as a pair to the basement of the building. Once they pushed open the door and entered the cold hall of stone and bright ceiling lights, a gun went off. The first shot had missed and Norway and Denmark split and bolted down the hall. Together they dispatched the man and had been about to carry on when they heard a shout.

"Norway! Denmark! Over here!"

They hurried towards where they had heard Iceland's voice. They found the occupied cell among the other empty ones and they clutched the bars and pressed their faces against the metal. Iceland ran up to them and put his hands against the bars as well.

"We'll get you out!" Denmark exclaimed.

Sweden looked up at them. Iceland pointed in the direction Norway and Denmark had just come and said, "That was the guard right there."

Instantly they peeled themselves away from the cell and ran up to the body. Just as they knelt down, Denmark breathed, "Only one guard…?"

They searched him and dread filled them as they found that there was nothing on him at all.

"Ice." Denmark's voice shook from stress. "He doesn't have any keys!"

"What?" Iceland yelled back. "But, surely he does! He's the only person who's been down here since we've been here!"

"I think he's more like a sentry," Norway muttered. "Not strong enough to be trusted with the keys, so when he is heard engaging in battle…"

"Then…" Denmark uttered as everyone suddenly heard purposeful footsteps coming closer. He did not need to finish his sentence. Around the corner, two shapes appeared bearing rifles just as they were. They pointed them at Norway and Denmark as they stood up beside the body.

Netherlands exposed his teeth as he hissed, "Drop your weapons!"

"Like hell!" Denmark snarled as he and Norway kept their guns steady on them. "Drop yours!"

"We will kill you," Netherlands uttered. "And we are leaving with Iceland and Sweden."

"No," Norway growled. "We're taking them!"

A mighty boom sounded above them that shook the ceiling. Dust fell around them but all stood unfazed, ignoring the action that was going on above them.

"Sure, you might kill one of us," Denmark said. "But we'll come back. And if we kill one of you, you'll come back too, but the organization loses their control. Fire and Brimstone has more to lose if one of you dies, so stand down!"

Another boom, louder this time. The sound echoed down the hall and they felt a brief trembling under their feet. Denmark and Norway felt a twinge of worry, and they noticed it in Netherlands' expression but not in Russia's, who was only glaring at them with a rage-twisted face and one gleaming eye.

Netherlands jumped to the side. Denmark fired instinctively as Russia did. Norway turned and gasped as Russia's bullet caught his shoulder, but he hopped away and dodged the next few while firing back. Russia was caught in the heart and he tripped backwards with his hands up and collecting the erupting blood. Netherlands shot a surprised glance his way as he continued letting a stream of bullets chase Denmark. He looked back as Denmark sprinted alongside the cells and fixed his aim on him.

Netherlands turned and jumped sloppily because of his injured knee but he managed to avoid being shot. Denmark planted a foot against the wall and launched upwards. He yelled and fired down at Netherlands, who shot at him simultaneously but had tripped over Russia's bleeding form and lost his aim. The bullet meant for his chest grazed his arm and Denmark was satisfied when Netherlands' chest was struck mid-fall. Netherlands' eyes popped and he fell on Russia with a gasp.

Denmark and Norway stalked up to them with their guns pointed at Netherlands' head.

"The keys!" Denmark spat. "Give them up!"

They could see them attached to a belt on Netherlands' hip. From Netherlands' glaring eyes they could tell he was frantically trying to work out a way out of this situation. Before he could respond however, another boom cracked above them and the ceiling quaked. Netherlands, Denmark, and Norway glanced up as cracks spread and pieces of the ceiling began to drop. They all yelled in terror as flaming material burst down upon them.

Denmark and Norway sailed over Netherlands and Russia and dashed closer to where Iceland and Sweden were panicking behind the bars. Netherlands rolled over Russia and tried to follow but he was struck and he screamed as he smacked against the ground and tiles and wood piled up on the lower half of his body. Russia made no sound but he had stared upwards until he was entirely crushed with a horrible crunching sound that was drowned by the sound of everything crumbling and burning up in the fire.

Denmark and Norway were unscathed, but they stared up worriedly at the lines extending from the hole in the ceiling. They saw Netherlands pinned over his rifle and twitching. They pulled him out a bit until his hip was revealed. Denmark took the keys off him and frantically started testing them on the cell.

Netherlands raised his head and saw them struggling to free Iceland and Sweden.

The voice in his head snarled, _Up! Stop them!_

Netherlands looked back at his legs crushed and trapped under the rubble.

 _I can't move._

 _They cannot escape, they-_

Netherlands never heard the end of that sentence. Just like that, it was suddenly gone. Netherlands blinked, shocked that he could only make out his own voice in his mind now. Then, the anger within him cooled and he became aware of the heat of the approaching flames.

"Th-The…" His voice wavered. He put his hands against the ground and tried to push his torso up. His mind cleared even more and Netherlands felt warm tears drip down his face as he tried and failed to get his legs free. Fear overtook him as the fire nipped his calves and singed his pants, and when he heard the ceiling groaning above them all.

"The black one!" Netherlands screeched.

The ceiling's protests grew louder. Netherlands quivered and stared up at it. He looked forward again as Denmark jammed the black key into the lock and it clicked as it opened. Iceland tore out from the cell with Sweden already stationed on his shoulders.

Something heavy landed on Netherlands back and cracked his vertebrae. He yelped and immediately felt the fire consuming the desk on his back eating his skin. He cried and squirmed helplessly, clawing at the rough ground in the direction of the Nordics beginning to flee.

"W-Wait!" Netherlands cried.

They looked back. Denmark looked up at the ceiling then trotted back to him. He grabbed onto Netherlands' forearms and pulled, but he did not budge and Denmark only managed to get Netherlands to scream in pain. Denmark moved his hands closer to the burning desk, but he hesitated. Netherlands breathed heavily and balled up his hands into fists.

"Netherlands, we'll find you," Denmark murmured as he backed away.

"No, wait- please!"

"You'll come back," he whispered before he turned around and raced away with the others. Netherlands watched them leaving with unending tears escaping his eyes. Memories of everything he had done that had brought everyone to this moment caused him to whine like a sorrowful hound and flop over his arms. Guilt and the bite of the fire were equally painful as he lay there alone to die, just as he had made it to be.

What ripped his heart was that he felt that he deserved this. He had killed his brother and sister, and many others. Perhaps he could be forgiven if his death was as slow, painful, and lonely as this. Netherlands touched his fingers against his lips and sobbed. He had committed so much murder but now that his emotions were all his again, he was so afraid to die. A part of him thought that maybe he would not return because his actions had been too grave and he would not be allowed to.

Netherlands' crying soon became louder as screams of agony joined in with them. Smoke swirled around him, entering his lungs until he gasped raggedly and felt a pain like claws ripping his throat.

 _It hurts._

His skin sizzled and burned away. Layer by layer. Netherlands screamed, he coughed, he cried. No one in the world heard him. He knew this and it only added to the pain.

He struggled to move the rifle out from under him. He could not take this. Netherlands squinted his eyes through the smoke and tears to find the barrel of the rifle. He extend his arms until he could reach the trigger while the metal was pressed hard against his forehead.

Netherlands was terrified, but the world just hurt too much.

" _Please_."

He said and thought no more. Just after the words had left his mouth, he pulled the trigger. And just as no one had been there to hear him scream, no one had heard the gunshot. His body, along with Russia's, was left only to be devoured by the flames and to be buried in the basement of the collapsing building, so far away in isolation deep underground, where they would never be recovered.

Yet naturally the Nordics could not think of this as they fled the building, tearing up the stairs then dodging falling wood and leaping over holes in the floor. They passed blackening bodies and they pressed on despite the pain of the smoke in their chests and the blazes of fire they leapt through. Iceland moved Sweden into his arms to keep him away from the worst of the rising smoke, but the child still coughed wretchedly and his tears left trails in the soot on his face.

A hole above them poured a silver table out. They leapt out of the way and avoided being hit by the needles and sharp tools that went flying upon impact. Denmark screamed, "Come on!" once he saw the destroyed entrance through the smoke and fire before them. He had not needed to, for Iceland and Norway bolted after him, clawing without hesitation through the inferno. Denmark's hat caught flame and he threw it off as it ate greedily at his hair. He pressed on, pushing past objects and burning off the sleeves and skin of his forearms until they exploded one-by-one out into the outside world. Once here, they trotted over to the other side of the street then collapsed on the pavement in relief.

They breathed in gratefully the city air. From their sitting positions, they looked up at the tall building that poured smoke out from its shattered windows. Pieces dropped off and it started to crumble further. Firetrucks zoomed into sight and finally the Nordics decided to limp away, torn and weary, as more pieces of the building dropped off concerningly close to them.

They saw other soldiers hanging around the street. It appeared that most of them had survived, but not one of them appeared to be uninjured. Most uniforms were coloured a dirty black and were ripped in places to reveal greasy, orange flesh. Some were lying down where their companions knelt and applied pressure on bleeding wounds while waiting for proper medical attention. The Nordics looked side-to-side woefully, seeing the pain brought upon people they did not know and wishing that none of them had ever gotten entangled into this mess.

There was a twinge of guilt in them, that because they had been targets to be protected, it had resulted in the deaths of innocent people. Denmark and Norway were reminded of the soldier guards who had once worked for them, seeing them in all those around them. They walked slowly, feeling the discomfort of mourning within because it felt all too much like the final battle of a war had been fought and won only at a dire price.

With these feelings inside, they halted and looked around with furrowed eyebrows as people started clapping and cheering for them once they had been noticed. They saw Iceland and Sweden safe and returned from the enemy, even if they did not recognize Denmark and Norway there with them. Denmark looked to Norway as he did to him. Although they had succeeded in saving Iceland and Sweden, they felt no joy. Perhaps they would later, but not now.

Norway saw Denmark turn his head to the side to take another glance back at the burning building. His hair stuck out in burnt tufts behind his head, mostly black and hiding the natural blonde colour. Once washed, it would be damaged and uneven. It would be a while before Denmark looked like himself again and did not give him a reminder of today whenever Norway looked at him. Not only this, but there was a nasty burn down the side of Denmark's face and one of his eyebrows was singed.

Norway knew he must not have looked better off. He could smell his own burnt hair and skin and he felt places on him still stinging as though the fire was still on him. Iceland was looking rough too, but Sweden seemed relatively unharmed and only filthy.

Denmark let out a wistful sigh and he turned back to his family. Norway knew exactly what he had been thinking of.

"Iceland was right," Denmark murmured. "It wasn't his fault. I would have saved him, really…"

"We know," Norway replied softly.

"But…"

"You did what you could."

"I still feel bad."

Norway told him, "We all do. But we will see him again, so don't worry."

They started walking forward again. Iceland had put down Sweden, who had taken a liking to him and now held his hand as they went on. Iceland pointed with his free arm down the road and they followed his finger to a few soldiers stepping into a vehicle.

They had not seen what he had. Denmark asked, "What is it?"

"That one soldier did something," Iceland said. "The other soldiers were just congratulating her and she just put something in her pocket."

The doors closed. Curious, they ran up to the vehicle just as it was about to leave. They were recognized, so they stopped and the window rolled down on the driver's side.

"Did something happen?" Denmark exclaimed.

A deep nod and smile were given to them.

"We have to go get this USB in," the driver told them. "We downloaded a list of all churches affiliated with this organization. We'll be able to track down all the members and arrest them, putting an end to all this for good."

The eyes of the Nordics shone in elation. The window went back up then the vehicle rolled away before picking up speed and hurrying away with an escort of cruisers coming in to follow it. The smell of gas dissipated and the four of them were left standing together in the middle of the street. They looked after the vehicle carrying away the tiny device that would destroy Fire and Brimstone forever, and now they felt happiness.

Denmark said excitedly, "It's over! We'll be able to walk the streets safely again!"

"No more hiding," Iceland smiled.

"Everyone's coming back!" Denmark grinned. "We'll get a little Finland soon, and we can go pick up Hanatamago now that it's safe to have her at home. He'll love her so much!"

"We can get through this," Norway murmured. "Like none of this ever happened."

"Yeah," Denmark agreed.

Denmark was surprised when Norway approached him and put his arms around him, mindful of the burns. It was not a quick hug and Norway did not insult him before doing it. It was one that although gentle, showed much emotion. Denmark embraced him and put his hands flat on his lower back.

"You're hugging me," Denmark laughed softly. "Look at that!"

He waited for a biting comment, for Norway to tell him to shut up, call him an idiot, or something like that- but Norway did not utter a word. He only lay his head against his chest despite the soot and inhaled while he clasped a hand around his own wrist. Denmark's fingers traced Norway's spine as his smile slowly faded. Iceland and Sweden looked on as the other two went absolutely silent, with the continued sounds of pandemonium replacing all words that could be said.


	16. Epilogue

He had his fingers spread over the keyboard, prepared to formulate a response, yet his fingers drew back again and one hand went up to his lips. This was how it kept going on. Netherlands would tentatively touch the keyboard, withdraw, then try again. Keys, lips, keys- never achieving his vague goal of announcing his presence. Dozens of unread messages were awaiting him, but before reading them he wondered if he should type something to post for everyone to see; a sort of _I'm back_ that was to the point, which he could ignore all responses to.

He could not bring himself to do it when heavy sorrow wrapped itself tightly around him, taped on with strips of fear. Netherlands did not know what responses would return to him, if caps locked comments of MURDERER would fly back, or other hurtful things such as: _go die again_ , _monster_ , and _how dare you return_. He had not spoken to a single one of them since he had returned. He had never been found but he wondered if this was because no one had gone looking for him. Perhaps they did not care, so now he was stuck pondering if he should type the message if that was the case.

 _My siblings never came for me. The Nordics never came although they promised they would… And where is my little rabbit? Why did no one look for me_? Netherlands grimaced. _They don't forgive me. Switzerland they could, but not me. I must be hated._

Negative thoughts controlled him until he finally read his messages. Just the first one caused him to freeze with his hand glued to the mouse as a fresh influx of tears spilled down his face. He slowly clicked the next one, and then the next, crying harder after each one he read. It did not make sense at first, and Netherlands could not help but whine, " _How_?" to himself in a tight, high voice.

So many questions whirled in his mind. He wondered how he could be missed, why they wanted to comfort him with visits and hugs, why they were asking constantly where he was, and why they were begging for him just to say a word. He received messages from everyone who had been involved in the summer madness; all who had been infected wanted to help him through the pain, and the Nordics said many times that his actions were not his fault and they wanted to know if he was alright. Luxembourg and Belgium reassured him that they loved him and wanted to see him.

He was overwhelmed with emotion, but what drove that final nail into his heart was the sight of the photo Belgium had sent. It was of Luxembourg with his large dog Perlutze stuck to his leg with his tongue rolled out, and in his arms was Netherlands' rabbit snuggling into his fine clothing.

 _We found her_ , Belgium had written. _But where are you, brother? Please come home. Please don't hide from us._

Netherlands had not meant to be unfindable. When he had returned, he had forgotten everything. An old couple had taken him in, too lonely and selfish to report to the police that they had found a lost child. While they had taken care of him well, he soon left once he grew up and remembered. He had wandered his country, letting his depression build as more and more memories haunted him. He realized only now that it was his fault no one had located him. They _had_ looked. But he had gone all over the country.

He had avoided Amsterdam because he did not want to think of his own body deep underground, crushed, burnt, and rotting. Netherlands went out to random cities aimlessly, and he had returned to the forest where he had buried Belgium. He had succeeded in finding the branch he had dragged over the spot, and he had removed it to start pawing at the ground. After only a few scrapes in, he had grown afraid and put everything back before hurrying out to the nearest city where he was now at one of the computers of its library.

 _I am so stupid. It was my fault!_

He was receiving strange looks from passing people. They did not recognize him and they wondered why this man was bawling in front of a picture of a rabbit. They might have thought that it was because those in the photo had died, but it was in truth just about the opposite.

Netherlands simply loved them so much and he wanted to see them more than anything else in the world. He could go to them now, but then he pondered if he should make his appearance in front of everyone who wanted to see him at once. He saw that they were trying to set up a meeting for everyone who had been involved, because despite his lack of communication in the last two months, they had sent an invitation to him.

Netherlands sniffed and his mouth lifted into a trembling smile. They all cared about him and he felt that he did too for them, even about those he had never been so close to. He placed his fingers back over the keys and finally left his message.

 _I am so sorry for everything. I love you all and I will be coming to that meeting._

* * *

He kept his promise and he showed up to the meeting, although unlike his usual, he had come late. Netherlands was the last to arrive out of all who had showed up and once he got to the doorway to the room, he could only stand and look at all who were here.

Belgium and Luxembourg were whole and unscarred, side-by-side wearing smiles and looking bright with health as they chatted with others. The five Nordics were all together, standing in the back and conversing with Switzerland, Austria, Liechtenstein, and Hungary. Netherlands watched Finland for a moment, perked up with his shining eyes that had not yet caught sight of him. Netherlands' gaze drifted over to see Russia wandering around donning affection, and he was surprised to see that everyone seemed more than glad to return his hugs.

Netherlands knew immediately that he had missed so much. Russia had been raised among many and was no longer feared, obvious when the Baltics did not even twitch when he carefully took each one into his arms. Prussia had also forgiven Germany, and was happily by his side with one arm wrapped around his brother's shoulders. No one had any bitter feelings at all to those who had been like him, not even those who had been murdered by them. Netherlands watched Hong Kong approach Germany without fear in his eyes and he saw Turkey going over to Russia.

A chair flew back as a voice gasped, "Netherlands!"

Luxembourg raced over to him. Belgium trailed him but had to wait her turn as Luxembourg flew into him and tightly embraced him. Netherlands inhaled and squeezed him before running his hands all over his back. Luxembourg was warm and real. Netherlands bent down enough to nuzzle him and croon by his ear, "I'm so glad you're back!"

"Likewise," Luxembourg murmured before he stepped back to let Belgium take his place. Netherlands treated her with equal love until he was led away by her towards the others who were gazing at him in excitement.

"You came!" Denmark exclaimed. He ran over and glomped him, rocking him side-to-side as he cried out, "We looked and looked for you! I'm so sorry… I know I promised, but we just couldn't find you…"

"It was my fault," Netherlands sighed. He let his eyes fall shut now as he started to relish the hugs he was receiving. Everything was so nice- _everyone_ was so kind. He wished it had always been this way before all the drama. It was hard to believe they had ever fought when just sharing hugs felt so much better.

Denmark stepped back and Netherlands rubbed at the tears that had collected in the corners of his eyes. Once he had removed his hands he saw Sweden approaching him. Netherlands jolted and his eyes widened as he remembered in a flash the splatter of skull and brain when he had killed Sweden. He paled and felt ill suddenly, and guilty when he met Sweden's eyes.

"I-It… I didn't-" Netherlands tried to speak.

Sweden's expression did not change. Netherlands did not know what he was thinking, but Sweden stepped in and wrapped his arms around him. Netherlands graciously put his hands on his back and hung his head over his shoulder. He did not realize he was choking on apologies until Sweden mumbled for him to stop blaming himself because he knew it wasn't him who had done it.

Finland came next and it was about the same thing. Once everyone went to sit down to actually begin the meeting, Netherlands' face was already soaked from the intermittent tears that had escaped him. He sat between his siblings and dabbed at his nose with a tissue that he had brought in preparation.

His throat felt sore and he was unsure if he would be able to talk when it came to his turn, but it turned out that he did not have to go first anyway. Germany began to speak and everyone listened eagerly. Not much was said, for Germany remembered nothing he had done. He could only express his sorrow after having had learned about the events once he had matured. It was the same with Russia, who had also not been conscious but was blatantly upset that he had terrorized and killed nations and innocent people. Right now he had one of his victims in his lap, China, who added to the story like others did and explained that Russia had taken off his head with an ax. Hurting more to hear it again, Russia slid his arms further around him with a frightened expression overtaking his face.

Sweden remembered some parts of what he had done. He did not remember killing, but he recalled voices in his head and travelling between places. The attack on Denmark's house was not remembered either, but once the chemicals had left him allowing him to regain his senses, he was fully conscious when Russia and Germany restrained him before Netherlands executed him.

Netherlands sank down where he was sitting and hid his face behind his hands. Belgium and Luxembourg were there to comfort him, and if they had not been there Netherlands was sure that he would have puked again. He dropped his hands down and revealed his teary visage as Switzerland now explained his story, which was already familiar because most of it had already been told. He went through it quickly although he, like Netherlands, remembered everything.

It came the time for everyone to hear the story that they had never heard. They were anxious to hear it; Netherlands knew they were vastly more focused because they all stared at him instead of down and they had inclined themselves in his direction. The eyes made him all the more nervous and his throat seized up again. It was such a long story with so much in it that he did not want to relay.

 _I can't do it._

"Netherlands," Britain said in the silence that Netherlands had accidentally let drag on. "We know that in the beginning, you had nothing to do with the organization. The fact that the headquarters was in your country means nothing."

Netherlands nodded slowly. It had helped to hear this. He swallowed then slowly began to speak.

"I was afraid."

The silence was thick. He felt as though his voice was louder and clearer than it really was because of it and he was aware of his every stutter and the fluctuations in tone. His heart throbbed as he feared that the others thought he was faking it all.

"I had a soldier to protect me because I did not want to be killed," he continued. "With Sweden on the loose, I was so stressed. But then when I was accused, I lost the soldier that had been so good. After the interrogations I received another soldier, but he was a member of that organization. He let them into my house and they made me Number Five. That same day, Belgium showed up and… I-I could not control myself. Somehow they can- _could_ convince you to do anything. I wanted to kill her. I said horrible things because of the anger and I just tore her apart…"

Netherlands was managing to hold onto his voice for the most part, picking up after the pauses because venting was relieving the tension.

"I helped them plan the attack against the Nordics. I was on the roof shooting those arrows… and when we failed, I killed Sweden. Afterwards we went directly to Luxembourg's place and I pretended I was normal b-but I promise- it still was not me! I was so twisted inside and I could control nothing. I attacked him then let the others kill him, and still I could feel nothing. I acted to manipulate everyone, even at my brother's funeral. Sometimes I felt just a bit of emotion before they took over, like when I was speaking to the Nordics on the computer, I had nearly spilled the secret. But how can I explain how profound my helplessness was? I know it seemed like me, so you may believe that I had chosen to do these things no matter what you say to my face..."

Immediately the room erupted into disagreement and the lack of hesitation comforted him. Belgium cried, "No! We know that you didn't want to do this!"

"Thank you," Netherlands whispered while turning his head to touch against hers. Then, he swallowed with discomfort and squeezed his arms against his sides while shifting his hands over his lap. He felt overly exposed suddenly as he recalled just exactly his helplessness around his soldier.

"The thing about that soldier… He… I-I was…" He did not want to use that word. It was so hard to form on his tongue that it was as though his mouth was filled with peanut butter. He thought of a synonym, but it was impossible to say as well. His throat only tightened further and he felt as though he was burning up entirely. Netherlands' eyes watered anew and he slowly crossed his legs.

No one surmised what he was having difficulty saying. When they saw him breaking composure, they flocked to him just to help him calm down. Netherlands exhaled a sob as multiple hands rested on him, rubbing, staying, and moving around him to complete a hug. People stepped in and out, letting others leave their print of caring on him. He felt like a soft doll being passed around loving hands; their touches were so gentle that he knew he was safe. With their help his crying ebbed and he could continue on.

"The soldier from the organization," Netherlands murmured. They had to listen attentively to hear his quiet words. "I ended up killing him, but… but he… every day- and I couldn't resist…"

"Oh." France frowned and his eyes went wide as he was the first to understand. After he had said this, everyone else seemed to get it. Netherlands leaned into someone and did not know who it was at first, but they put their large, warm hands on his back and it was so supporting. He put his hands then face into their front and breathed shakily.

Netherlands heard a chair sliding in and he knew it was given to the person holding him because he felt them lower down. Once they were sitting behind and to the side of him, Netherlands shifted his seat and wiggled into this person.

With his eyes closed, Netherlands went on to say, "There was a time though, when the chemicals ran out and I was me again. And I felt so _horrible_ for everything I had done. All I could do was scream, cry, and puke. They put more in me of course, then I went on planning and using poison hemlock to hurt everyone. The plans started to fail however, but I am glad. Now it is over an-and everyone came back..."

It was so pleasant to have his back rubbed. Netherlands could tell at least that this was not Belgium and Luxembourg doing this for him because the hands were not familiar. He creaked open his eyes and saw black, which did not help much because so many were wearing casual clothes of that shade. It was a rather comfortable sweater nevertheless, which combined with his vulnerable emotions, made him want to be small, held, and cuddled. He wished this time that he was not so tall just so this could be easier, but at least the person holding him right now was his height.

Someone else was stroking their hand up along his hardened hair. They patted their hand on the gelled spikes and he turned his head and saw Russia's scarf beside him. That was fine; he had seen how amiable everyone had been to Russia and Netherlands did not feel resentment for him now. He liked Russia's hand playing with his hair and petting the side of his face, and he liked whoever had their hands over his, and the many hands touching his shoulders and back.

It was amazing how warm his heart felt when he had never truly felt so affectionate to people in his life. In the past, most relations had been strictly for business because anything else he had considered to be time-consuming. Now though, he felt as though he could purr in this absolute coziness. The best he could do was produce a blissful humming sound as he snuggled into the person hugging him.

"Wow," Denmark breathed out with a chuckle. "I never thought you could be so sweet!"

Netherlands pulled back to be able to lift his head and clarify that Denmark was the one who had spoken and been holding him. He bowed his head, now feeling unwelcome, but Denmark waved away these feelings by placing his hand on the back of Netherlands' head and guiding it back down to his chest. His hand slid down and rubbed his back as the hug re-tightened.

"Hey," Denmark murmured. "Everything's alright."

Netherlands did not feel like he needed to cry anymore. So easily the sadness and fear were slipping away to be replaced by happiness. Denmark's words did not come across as stereotypical to him because they were truthful. Everything was truly alright now. Fire and Brimstone was gone and with them, the horrible technology. Any other deaths was the fault of the organization as well and not theirs to feel guilty about. All the nations who were back were understanding and more kind to him than they had ever been before.

Life was certainly not going back to normal; it would get better than what it was before.

"Yeah," Netherlands sighed. "Thanks to what you and Norway did."

Norway, standing among the other Nordics, blinked then smiled softly. Denmark did as well and replied, "Well, anyone else would have done it. We were just the first ones to that building."

Netherlands took away his arms to replace them around Denmark's neck. He rose up then set his chin on his collarbone. Once settled here, he said, "But thank you, for ending it..."

Netherlands found himself liking that word. Before, Fire and Brimstone had used that word often to mean only death. Now it had a positive meaning: the end of pain. And this _end_ was not so final; a new beginning would commence because of it. The thought of what was to come filled him with euphoria and now it was tears of joy that escaped him.

When Netherlands sniffed by his ear, Denmark knew that he was no longer sad but he still wanted to reassure him with a sort of promise. One that would signify that they would never forget the bonds created after surviving this hardship together.

"Don't worry," Denmark whispered to him. "I know I couldn't find you before, but I got you now."

 **The End**


End file.
